


Pemberley Below the Stairs

by Kressel



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kressel/pseuds/Kressel
Summary: The first year of Elizabeth and Darcy's marriage, as seen by their housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 72
Kudos: 459





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in August 2004

Mr. Darcy’s new bride had been at Pemberley three and a half months when Mrs. Reynolds found occasion to brew some of her family recipe for raspberry ginger tea. It was uncharacteristic of the master to remain in his chambers past seven, so when he did not emerge until eight, Mrs. Reynolds suspected that Mrs. Darcy must have been in some discomfort, and the master had not wished to leave her side. The idea reached conviction an hour later when Mrs. Darcy appeared, possessing somewhat less of her usual vivacity. With that, Mrs. Reynolds took out the ginger root she had stored since the wedding and found the stillroom maid to teach her how to prepare an infusion of raspberries for the tea.

"Mrs. Reynolds, what brings you to the larder at this hour?" asked Constance, the undercook. The kitchen and larder were the cooks' domain; as housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds had other responsibilities. "Mmmm, Jamaica ginger," said Constance, peering over Mrs. Reynolds' shoulder as she unwrapped the root. "I don’t remember any requests for that."

"I am teaching Nancy a new recipe for tea. With the master and mistress just home from town, I thought it a fitting time for a treat."

"'Tis strange they are come back so soon," observed Constance. "I thought they went to commission a portrait. Why would they return without it?"

"It is none of our concern," said Mrs. Reynolds, glancing at Nancy to warn her against joining in Constance's speculations. Constance viewed this sort of meddling as harmless fun, but Mrs. Reynolds would not tolerate it, especially not in the presence of one of the younger maids. Nancy took the warning and kept obediently silent.

"It is none of our concern," Mrs. Reynolds repeated, "except insofar as their early arrival alters our work schedules. I will be going to Lambton at the end of this week. You and Mr. Oliver should make up your marketing list."

"Monsieur Olivierre," corrected Constance in a mocking but perfect French accent. Mrs. Reynolds knew Constance meant to ridicule the head cook and not herself, but she reddened nevertheless. Meanwhile, she could content herself that she had successfully distracted Constance, whose thoughts had turned either to some grievance she bore against Mr. Olivierre or perhaps to the gossip circulating around Lambton. Thus freed, she led Nancy to the stillroom for her lesson in brewing the tea.

"The ginger is the most important ingredient, and you should be generous with it. You saw how to wrap the root for freshness."

"Yes, ma’am," said Nancy. She had worked in the stillroom for several years and always watched Mrs. Reynolds’ actions attentively, knowing they carried at least as much instruction as her words. Nancy had become a skilled and trusted worker from precisely this sort of keen observation.

"If Mrs. Darcy likes this blend, make if for her as often as she requests. Now set the tray and find a footman to serve it to her."

"Yes, ma’am," said Nancy with a curtsy as Mrs. Reynolds left her to her duties.

Mrs. Reynolds proceeded on to her own workroom where Mrs. Darcy’s maid was busily mending one of her mistress’ finer winter gowns. Polly stood and curtsied when Mrs. Reynolds entered. Relieved at finding her alone, Mrs. Reynolds began, "Polly, from now on, after you have brought Mrs. Darcy her water, you will immediately bring her up a tray of tea and toast. This is especially important on mornings like this one when she does not come down to breakfast as early as usual."

Polly nodded and Mrs. Reynolds was satisfied. Discretion was an essential trait in all servants, but especially in ladies' maids. If Polly suspected anything more in this command than what was said, she had the wisdom not to repeat it.

When the neighborhood learned that Mr. Darcy was to marry, Polly's position had been a coveted one. Cora, the maid who attended Miss Georgiana, might have expected to be promoted to the senior position, but she was as timid in manner as Miss Darcy herself. Her attachment to Miss Darcy was in fact so strong and their temperaments so well-suited that quitting Miss Darcy was beyond her consideration. It was she who recommended Polly, her older sister, to attend the new mistress of Pemberley. Until then, Polly had been serving the Duchess at Bradwell, who was known to be demanding. Mrs. Reynolds was at first a bit reluctant to hire a maid who would so quickly change her place - perhaps the girl was flighty and would quit Pemberley as suddenly as she was willing to quit Bradwell - but her sister assured Mrs. Reynolds that this was not the case. A few inquiries corroborated this, so Polly joined the Pemberley staff, and both Mrs. Reynolds and Polly quickly came to rejoice in their decision.

Mrs. Reynolds' next task was to inspect the upstairs rooms. Since the Darcys had risen late, it would have been unreasonable to expect the upstairs maid to have finished, so she ascended the rear staircase to the guest wing, slowly and quietly, making her supervision as unobtrusive as possible.

The guest wing had not been used in recent weeks, and as long as the rooms stood vacant, very little cleaning was required there. The furnishings were now covered in white sheets as a protection from dust, waiting for removal when the next guests would arrive, whoever they might be. Mrs. Reynolds did insist that the rooms be swept out daily, and the upstairs maid had seen to that more than adequately.

The current emptiness of these rooms was a stark contrast to the bustle that had prevailed in the holiday season. Mrs. Darcy had proven quite fond of entertaining, and this year, many new guests had occupied those rooms: the Bennet family, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and the Gardiners and their children. The Gardiners' visit inspired Mrs. Darcy to make her first change at Pemberley House. Most of the house remained furnished as Lady Anne Darcy had directed in her lifetime, achieving a decor of elegance without ostentation. The young Mrs. Darcy so admired her predecessor's tastes that she had not wished to change anything, but for the sake of her favorite aunt and uncle, one of the guest rooms was being redesigned into a guest nursery room. Except for the activity this undertaking involved, the guest wing had been quiet since the holidays, and certainly it was the Darcys’ right to enjoy their privacy as newlyweds.

From the guest wing, Mrs. Reynolds passed through the hallway, noting the polished oak of the door frames, and turned the corner to the governess' quarters, now occupied by Mrs. Annesley. Mrs. Annesley was a genteel woman close to Mrs. Reynolds' age, and she had earned the esteem of everyone at Pemberley, the Darcys and the servants alike. Her charge was as reverent a pupil as could be, but her relationship with Miss Darcy was not as warm as that between the young lady and Mrs. Reynolds. Mrs. Reynolds had known Miss Darcy since the day of her birth and through every trial of her life, from the losses of her parents to her heartbreak after Ramsgate. To Miss Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley was an authority figure, while Mrs. Reynolds could be a confidante.

Mrs. Annesley's window offered Mrs. Reynolds a good view of where the laundry maid should have been working, and Mrs. Reynolds was irritated at not finding her there. Since the snow had melted, Martha was expected to perform her duties outdoors, and she had begun to grow lax. It was her first position at a fine house; she had sought the position of lady’s maid, but inexperienced and uneducated as she was, she was not at all suited for it. She was, however, robust in appearance and seemed fully capable of the more arduous tasks of a laundry maid, so on that basis Mrs. Reynolds hired her. Now that Martha's work was slackening, Mrs. Reynolds was considering what course of action to take with her. Her current absence did not help matters, and in a disgruntled spirit, Mrs. Reynolds proceeded to Miss Darcy’s apartment.

Miss Darcy's rooms consisted of her chambers, her dressing room, and her sitting room, all of which had been fitted up with greater elegance and lightness the summer before. The new furnishings reflected Miss Darcy’s maturing tastes; it was no longer the sitting room of a girl, but of a refined young woman. Her most cherished possessions were kept in that room. Her drawing desk stood near the window overlooking some of Pemberley's finest gardens. And in the center of the room was the pianoforte Mr. Darcy had purchased for her sixteenth birthday, moved above so that Miss Darcy could practice in privacy. She was practicing at it right then, her lyrical soprano voice carrying through that wing of the house. As Mrs. Reynolds surveyed the other rooms, she left the doors open and allowed the music to soothe her.

Glancing at the clock, Mrs. Reynolds felt she could give the upstairs maid a bit more time to finish the Darcys' apartment. She walked past it to another apartment not currently in use, the rooms Mr. Darcy used before he was married. There could be no happier occasion for the closing of rooms, but Mrs. Reynolds would not allow them to fall into neglect. Mrs. Reynolds found them swept and dusted thoroughly, so she closed their door quietly and walked toward the opposite end of the hallway. She again passed the Darcys’ apartment and heard the upstairs maid working busily within it. She rapped lightly on the door to alert the maid of her presence and entered the nursery, the last area upstairs not yet in active use.

At that moment, the voice dearest to her in the world interrupted her thoughts. "The mistress wishes to speak to you, Mother."

She smiled at her son, the picture of service in his smart footman's livery. Their disparate duties gave them little opportunity to speak during the day, and she could not think of tarrying to chat now when the mistress had summoned. She followed Joseph downstairs to Mrs. Darcy's sitting room where she was writing a letter, the tea service laid out on the table before her. Mrs. Reynolds observed with some pride that the mistress was already looking more refreshed.

She had grown fond of Mrs. Darcy with uncommon speed. That she was Mr. Darcy's choice after many years of bachelorhood predisposed her in Mrs. Reynolds' favor, but Mrs. Reynolds could never have predicted her character. She was open and confident in her manner, and not afraid to admit to Mrs. Reynolds that she was somewhat overwhelmed by all the wealth and responsibility that had suddenly become hers. She gratefully accepted the advice and experience of the older woman, despite their difference in rank. The daily meetings in which they discussed the housekeeping had become a great pleasure to Mrs. Reynolds.

This time, the interview was brief. The Darcys had invited no guests, having just returned from London themselves, but there was one unusual order, which Mrs. Darcy gave with a coy smile: Mr. Darcy wished to be interrupted in whatever he was doing when the new portrait was delivered.

"She is truly the blushing bride," thought Mrs. Reynolds.

"And Mrs. Reynolds, I must thank you. I understand this delicious tea was made especially as a treat for me. What is in it?"

Mrs. Reynolds had not wanted to solicit praise for herself, but she could not fail to answer Mrs. Darcy's direct question. "It's a raspberry infusion with ginger root and honey, madam." As soon as she had spoken, she realized she was glad of the opportunity of giving an explanation. Knowing she could speak openly to Mrs. Darcy, she added, "It’s an old family remedy for nausea. I've stored enough root to last several months."

Mrs. Darcy's eyes brightened, "Oh, Mrs. Reynolds, you do think of everything!"

Slightly embarrassed, Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and began to leave when Mrs. Darcy asked her to invite Miss Georgiana to join her.

Returning upstairs, Mrs. Reynolds waited at the door of Miss Georgiana's sitting room until she finished her song. Mrs. Reynolds enjoyed watching Georgiana while she played, perhaps even more than she enjoyed hearing her. In this private room, the young lady would sit at her pianoforte and lose all her inhibitions. There were no parties and guests to please here, no ladies to flatter and embarrass her, and no men with less than gentlemanly intentions. There was only Georgiana, her music, and the possessions she most cherished. Right outside, were the people she most trusted - her beloved brother, his new wife, and Mrs. Reynolds herself.

Miss Darcy sang out the last clear note of her finale, and Mrs. Reynolds entered the room.

"Miss Darcy, I declare you are a regular songbird."

"Oh, Mrs. Reynolds!" she cried, coloring.

"The mistress has requested your presence. She is taking tea in her sitting room downstairs."

Georgiana, accompanied by Mrs. Annesley, joined her new sister while Mrs. Reynolds straightened up the room. She took great pleasure in the upkeep of this one, Miss Georgiana's favorite, and reserved its care to herself. Pemberley was Miss Georgiana's permanent home now, and to Mrs. Reynolds' mind, one of the most favorable results of Mr. Darcy's marriage. Now nearing her seventeenth birthday, it seemed likely that suitors would soon approach, but Mrs. Reynolds feared difficulties in that quarter. There were few men who could win Miss Darcy's trust and perhaps fewer still who could earn Mr. Darcy's approbation.

From the window in Miss Darcy’s sitting room, Mrs. Reynolds spotted Martha talking to Timothy, the lower gardener. Mrs. Reynolds rapped hard against the window, startling the derelict couple. They looked up to see Mrs. Reynolds' angry scowl and quickly separated. Mrs. Reynolds' steps also quickened, and she went directly to the hallway closet to see how many of her duties Martha had shirked. Stacks of towels and sheets neatly lined the shelves. This pacified Mrs. Reynolds somewhat, but her patience for the girl was wearing thin. She preferred not to speak to the Darcys about her; it would risk her dismissal. Martha herself might be too foolhardy to appreciate it, but Pemberley was the best place for any servant. Mr. Darcy, like his father before him, was known to be the kindliest master in the country. The new mistress was proving to be as magnanimous to the servants as her husband. As a maid in any other house, Martha would have to endure far worse conditions. Mrs. Reynolds would not have that on her conscience.

Ellen, the upstairs maid, emerged from Mrs. Darcy's dressing room, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of the morning. Even without inspecting the remaining rooms, Mrs. Reynolds knew she was deserving of praise.

"Very good work, Ellen. Now you may go downstairs and have a bit of tea."

"Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am," said Ellen with a grateful smile and curtsy.

She bounded down the stairs with slightly renewed energy, and Mrs. Reynolds wished her supervision could always be so easy. She far preferred to achieve efficiency amongst her staff through kindness and not fear.

She then turned and walked toward the gallery, another area of the house whose care was her exclusive responsibility. As she dusted the furnishings and portraits, she paused to look at the portraits of Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne. Remembering their charity, she reassured herself that she had chosen the right path in remaining patient with Martha. Mrs. Reynolds fervently hoped she could teach Martha to strive for the excellence that befitted a servant at Pemberley. An entire family was depending on it.

Mrs. Reynolds turned at the sound of Mr. Darcy's long strides up the gallery stairs. He looked as stately and handsome as ever, but only someone who knew him very well could detect the agitation in his manner. His eyes darted around at the many portraits of his illustrious ancestors, finally resting on the very same portraits of his parents that Mrs. Reynolds had just been contemplating. She wondered at the comparisons that might be passing though his mind and was rather charmed at the thought. The perturbed expression on his face was for her a momentary glimpse back to the vulnerable years of his boyhood, though the concerns that plagued him now were most decidedly those of a grown man. In a voice so low as to be certain nobody could hear them, he asked her with a worried air, "Did my wife seem well today?"

"Ah, Mr. Darcy," thought Mrs. Reynolds to herself, "I knew why you followed me up here. I knew you would ask." But she would never speak such words aloud. She looked down at her hands and said, "Yes, sir. I gave her a special brew of tea this morning. She quite enjoyed it." This was as direct as she would be on the subject with him. He was silent and she hoped this meant he understood. For all his worldliness, in some ways, he was still very innocent. Perhaps he was as embarrassed as she, for he abruptly changed the subject.

"Has your son found the book I loaned him useful?"

Mrs. Reynolds raised her eyes. It was a mark of distinction that he chose to further her son's education over and above any of the other household servants'.

"Yes sir, I believe he has finished it."

"Good. I will loan him the second volume when I next see him."

Mrs. Reynolds thanked him when she noticed him gaze past her, out the window, and his expression change to delight. She looked out the window to see what had so arrested him.

"Your delivery from London!" she exclaimed.

He nodded and began to descend the stairs. "Please find a manservant to remove that somber old fellow," he said, gesturing to his portrait occupying the center place.

"That was already done by a young lady," thought Mrs. Reynolds, chuckling to herself.

Within minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Miss Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, and almost every servant in the house was in the gallery. Joseph hung the new portrait for all to admire. Mr. Darcy, in a rare display of physical affection, drew his wife close to him.

"Ah, sweet justice," he sighed. She looked at him inquisitively. Beaming at her, he explained, "I was just remembering a discussion with someone as to whether any painter could possibly capture the shine and expression of your beautiful eyes." He looked from her eyes to the painting and back. "And Mr. - has done it splendidly!"

At that, her eyes did sparkle and well up with a few happy tears. It was now preserved for posterity; the mistress of Pemberley was in her proper place, and she was a source of celebration to all.


	2. Chapter 2

The servants customarily took their dinner in the late afternoon in a plain but large room behind the kitchen. There was a smaller one adjacent to it intended only for the senior staff, but Mrs. Reynolds found that keeping the staff together for their dinner was conducive to both closer supervision and more peaceful relations. Two long tables sufficed for all of them, and while the conversation was frequently lively, Mrs. Reynolds always remained attentive enough to the rest of the house to hear any summonses.

"Tell us about the portrait," urged Constance, sitting down. None of the kitchen staff had been able to participate in the morning procession to the gallery.

"She wore her new burgundy velvet with the ruby pendant he bought her," described Polly.

"They posed with their hands almost touching, so you could see her wedding ring," said Ellen.

"Her hairstyle was really simple, but she still looked like one of those ladies in the fashion magazines Miss Bingley left behind last year," said Miss Georgiana's maid, Cora.

"Imagine if Mr. Darcy had married her. Think of all the hours poor Polly would have to spend on her lady’s toilette!"

"And to what effect?"

The laughter was uproarious. Miss Bingley's haughtiness had made her a most disliked person amongst the servants, and she was therefore a favorite subject of ridicule. She had been the precisely sort of guest they most despised: one who demanded much from them yet felt it beneath her to show them any gratitude. Even Mrs. Reynolds could not resist. "I knew before she even uttered a word that she would never succeed with the master. He could never admire such a selfish creature."

This evoked an even louder laugh. Miss Bingley's vain attempts to attract Mr. Darcy especially amused the servants, and his impassive responses to her added to the folly.

"Truly," said Mrs. Reynolds more seriously, hoping to make them appreciate what they had in Mrs. Darcy, "After replenishing her wardrobe, jewelry, silverware, and furnishings, there would have been a demand to increase her pin money - at the expense of any future wage increases for us."

This did engender more soberness amongst the girls, but Nancy demurred, "That would never have happened. Mr. Darcy has so much - "

"We do not count other people’s money," interrupted Mrs. Reynolds, "but you are right that it would not have occurred. Mr. Darcy would never have permitted it. He willingly pays the price to have the best for Pemberley - and that includes for us - but he does not indulge his every whim. And although he makes sure his wife and sister lack for nothing, he does not tolerate extravagance." Even the menservants' table had grown quiet, "I daresay most of you would be shocked by the stories of some of the gentry who go through fortunes as large and larger than the Darcys' in a few short years."

All were silent until Polly quietly observed, "Mrs. Darcy has not bought so very many dresses for herself at all."

"Not near as much as I would get if I was her," declared Martha, tossing her head so that her curls bounced across her shoulders.

The girls then began to indulge their fancy in a discussion of finery, and the menservants returned to their own concerns. Mrs. Reynolds rued that this turn of conversation was even less suitable than the last. Being surrounded by the wealth of others meant certain struggle with the sin of envy. Every servant she had ever known struggled with it, including herself. Some were resigned to the fact that they would never amass wealth, so they lived for pleasure. Menservants were particular prone to this, often squandering their wages on drink. Female servants ran the risk of spending their meager wages in a vain attempt to imitate the styles of their superiors, rather than saving and working toward the comfortable place that could be theirs with enough effort. And some servants, like her son Joseph, were exceptionally intelligent and driven to raise their station, but if they did so without confronting any envy they might harbor, they became bitter and uncharitable to those of the class they had left behind.

Mrs. Reynolds swelled with pride as she looked over at Joseph, sitting amongst the menservants and absorbing himself in a book. Mr. Darcy had supported him at the local school and now gave him use of the library. This in itself was of little consequence to the other menservants, but Joseph's quiet and scholarly nature set him apart from them, and as the son of the housekeeper, they believed him to be the recipient of preferential treatment. Despite his youth, he remained indifferent to it all, and while their ostracizing him bothered Mrs. Reynolds, seeing him educated far outweighed her other concerns for him.

Next to Joseph sat Timothy trying to catch Martha's eye. Martha would not hazard a glance in his direction with Mrs. Reynolds nearby. She instead engaged herself in the maidservants' talk of fashion and finery, but through her enthusiastic gestures, she seemed to have very consciously drawn Timothy's attention. Mrs. Reynolds nodded to Mr. Hammond at the head of the mens' table, and with a dart of her eyes toward Timothy and then Martha, she insured the lad would get the appropriate discipline. She then turned back to the maidservants’ table to redirect their conversation.

"If it's dresses you want, I will be going to Lambton at the end of the week. There are some very durable fabrics with pretty prints to be had there, and I will gladly purchase some for any of you and deduct the cost from your wages."

Each of them had been trained in needlework by their mothers, but under Mrs. Reynolds' supervision, they became masterful. These skills were useful to Pemberley, but by encouraging the maidservants to make their own clothes, their pleasure in perfecting their skills very naturally increased. Mrs. Reynolds did not object to their desire to adorn themselves; she merely wanted to teach them the modesty and thrift. They conversed about colors and trimmings until the end of the meal, and as everyone resumed their work, there came a knock at the door.

The fine reputation of the Pemberley Estate frequently brought uninvited visitors, yet Mrs. Reynolds was surprised when Mr. Hammond informed her that the caller was the mistress’ father, Mr. Bennet. It was unthinkable that Mrs. Darcy would neglect to inform her of the guests she was expecting, and especially not her own father. Indeed, if the Darcys had followed their original schedule, they would be in London still. As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Hammond said, "I believe the master and mistress are as surprised as you are, Mrs. Reynolds."

She was somewhat vexed. She did not like to make preparations for guests in haste. "A very strange man," she thought to herself, "visiting his newlywed daughter without prior announcement! And alone, quite alone! Where is his wife?"

The question itself contained the answer, and Mrs. Reynolds grew sympathetic. She had had a long interview with Mrs. Bennet on the family's holiday visit. The size and grandeur of Pemberley had astounded her, which was a natural enough reaction, but Mrs. Bennet failed to comport herself with any of the dignity her daughter possessed. She was in fact so silly in her effusions and made such impractical suggestions to her daughter that Mrs. Reynolds soon concluded that all Mrs. Darcy's good sense must have been from her father's influence. Married to such a foolish woman, of course Mr. Bennet had wanted to escape. But why could he not have sent a note of his impending arrival? Loneliness did not excuse a lack of consideration.

Preparations were made for the guest and the afternoon's chores pursued without interruption. In the evening when the servants were at leisure, Mrs. Reynolds inadvertently disturbed Mr. Bennet in the library. She assumed the gentlemen would be at port in the salon, so it seemed an ideal moment to return the book Joseph had borrowed from the library, but she entered to find Mr. Bennet.

"Ah, Mrs. Reynolds," he said, as he put down his glass. His address was far more familiar than that to which she was accustomed. "So your son is the fine young man I had the privilege of meeting this afternoon. In Longbourn, I am starved for rational conversation; in Pemberley, the servants are scholars. You spare no expense on their education, Darcy."

The master appeared from behind a shelf of books, startling Mrs. Reynolds. She curtsied as Mr. Darcy said, "Joseph is exceptional, sir. I cannot take credit for his achievements. Providing opportunity for scholarship is the smallest task. Scholars are the products of their own efforts. Of course, their love of learning, more often than not, comes from their parents, who also deserve much credit."

Mrs. Reynolds blushed. "The kindest heart in the world," she thought, "What a reflection he is on his own excellent parents!"

Mr. Darcy took a sip from his glass, and then smiling, went on, "I have great admiration for those who seek to improve their own minds by extensive reading. Some young ladies, I understand, educate themselves so respectably, they surpass the alumnae of the oldest seminaries in town. Expense is far from the only factor in a scholar’s success."

"I am grateful that at least one of my daughters can earn me a compliment," laughed Mr. Bennet, "though perhaps I should be more charitable. Jane is an especially good girl, and she has been an excellent influence on Kitty as of late. With the disturbers to her brain removed, Kitty has displayed more good sense than I could have imagined she possessed."

"What about Kitty?" asked Mrs. Darcy as she entered. Both men brightened on seeing her. "Are we to expect her here soon?"

"My dear Lizzy, I might shamelessly impose on your hospitality with my company, but I would not do so with Kitty's."

"If Kitty is as improved as I believe I heard you say, then I should be happy to have her here, and Mary as well. And I daresay we can suffer you, too, sir."

Mrs. Reynolds had never heard such jesting between a father and daughter before, and were it not for her high regard for Mrs. Darcy, she would have been quite shocked.

"Perhaps they might visit with Jane and Charles or my aunt and uncle Gardiner this summer?" suggested Mrs. Darcy, turning to her husband.

"Perhaps," he replied, considering her a little doubtfully. Her playful manners belied her peaked appearance. She was struggling for ease, but could not quite achieve it.

"Shall I send in some raspberry tea, madam?" asked Mrs. Reynolds.

"Oh, yes, that would be lovely," said the mistress in a tone of grateful relief.

Mrs. Reynolds bid a footman to see to Mrs. Darcy's tea and entered the servants' dining hall where Constance and the maidservants were taking tea themselves. Ordinarily, Mrs. Reynolds would have joined them before retiring to the solitude of her own quarters to plan the next day, but Martha’s absence from the group did not escape her attention. She must find the girl out.

Martha was not in the maids' quarters, and since it was too cold for her to be outdoors, Mrs. Reynolds made a brisk search of the downstairs rooms. If she found Martha doing anything other than work in one of the Darcys' private rooms, she would be forced to dismiss her, regardless of the circumstances of her family. Any maidservant who was willing to compromise her own virtue could not be tolerated at Pemberley.

A glimmer of light shone through the door to the late master's sitting room. That room was no longer in active use, and since it contained only pictures and some personal effects, it would be of little interest to anybody. With images of Martha and Timothy in her mind, Mrs. Reynolds fumbled with her keys and furiously pulled the door open.

"Oh! Excuse me, Miss Darcy!" she exclaimed, curtsying awkwardly. "I thought - I was looking for - what is the matter?" Miss Darcy's cheeks were stained with fresh tears and Mrs. Reynolds' mood was instantly altered. She drew closer to Miss Darcy.

"Little mistress," she said, affectionately using the childhood epithet, "what brings you to this room? Please tell old Mrs. Reynolds." She noticed that some of the miniatures were out of their places: a portrait of her parents as a young couple and the one of George Wickham.

Miss Darcy shook her head. "Seeing Elizabeth with her father reminds me of my own father. I do not know why. He was so very different than Mr. Bennet."

"Indeed," agreed Mrs. Reynolds. "I have never met a finer gentleman than your father, except perhaps for your brother."

Miss Georgiana smiled a little. "William and Elizabeth showed Mr. Bennet their new portrait this afternoon, and then the entire gallery. He suggested they remove Aunt Catherine's picture out of respect for her. He said, 'With the gallery of Pemberley thus polluted, perhaps there might be damage to the paint on her ladyship’s likeness.'"

Mrs. Reynolds suppressed a laugh. News of Lady De Bourgh's displeasure at Mr. Darcy's bride had made its way to the servants' hall. Any servant who had been at Pemberley in the lifetime of Lady Anne remembered the days in which Lady Catherine and her daughter were frequent visitors. Amongst them, she was as disliked a figure as Miss Bingley. Mrs. Reynolds herself had received much unsolicited advice from her ladyship and had learned many years ago to disregard her opinions. She knew that the late master had not respected her, and while his son and daughter treated her with the cordiality due her as a close relation, neither had any real affection for her. Mr. Bennet's joke could not be the source of Miss Darcy's distress, and Mrs. Reynolds waited patiently for the young lady to own it.

Miss Darcy continued, "They brought him in here, and he saw Mr. Wickham's picture and he praised him as his favorite son-in-law." Mrs. Reynolds breathed in sharply as Miss Darcy let a few more tears fall. She was divided between indignation at Mr. Bennet's indelicacy and overwhelming pity for Miss Darcy. She thought to embrace her as she might have done years ago, but Miss Darcy was now a young lady, and to do so would be a breach of rank.

"Why does he jest in this way?" asked Miss Darcy. "I know he cannot understand how his words hurt me, but to tease my brother, after all he has suffered?"

"I am sure your brother was more concerned for your feelings than his own, Miss."

"Oh yes, and Elizabeth as well. She excused us and we went upstairs. She would have sat with me a long time, but I did not wish to keep her from her father."

"That was considerate of you, Miss Georgiana, but you must also consider yourself. To repine in secrecy in your father's old room does nothing for anybody."

Miss Darcy nodded silently. Mrs. Reynolds longed to know her feelings about Mr. Wickham, but would not press. She felt certain that Miss Darcy had shed all illusions about him soon after her brother had foiled the wicked man's scheme. Perhaps it was simply the attentions of a charming man that she missed. The constant exposure to a couple very much in love might well cause her to wish for something similar for herself.

"Perhaps you would like a warm bath, Miss," suggested Mrs. Reynolds. "Shall I send Cora above for you?" Miss Darcy assented, and as the two left the room, Mrs. Reynolds remembered her original purpose in entering it. "Miss Darcy, have you perhaps seen Martha the laundry maid this evening?"

"Yes, she lit the fire and candles for me here. I daresay she was glad I asked her; the manservant bringing in the wood was following her, and she looked anxious to escape him."

"Thank you, Miss Darcy. I will send Cora above directly." She thought Miss Darcy was entirely mistaken about Martha; she had given Martha the feelings which would have attended her had she been the culprit. Nothing that had happened between Wickham and herself had occurred without a chaperone. That fact made the incident all the more deplorable, but Mrs. Reynolds could not reflect on that now. She extinguished the fires, sent Miss Georgiana’s maid upstairs, and took up her candle to continue her search below in the storage and still rooms. For the third time that night, Mrs. Reynolds was startled by an unexpected presence behind a door. Martha was hanging sheets by the still room fireplace.

"I’m sorry," said the girl, curtsying. "I thought these would dry in the sun today, but it was too cold."

Mrs. Reynolds was unsure how she should react. The girl had been working, but Miss Darcy had informed her she had been chatting - or worse - with the manservant. The circumstances were suspicious but inconclusive. Mrs. Reynolds did not want to scold the girl without justification, but she must communicate in no uncertain terms the standards she expected of her staff. She stated coldly, "If the laundry has not dried by sunset, I expect you to bring it in then, and no later."

"Yes, ma’am."

And then more sternly, she added, "You would be more efficient if you would not stop and chat with the lads so much. If I see you doing it again, I will withhold some of your wages." Fining the staff was a common punishment housekeepers imposed on lower servants, but Mrs. Reynolds herself seldom exercised it.

Martha could no longer face Mrs. Reynolds' gaze and mumbled, "Yes, ma’am."

Mrs. Reynolds retired to her own quarters in bitter spirits, too ruffled after scolding Martha to join the other servants for tea. She hated being harsh and the feelings of anger it stirred up within her, yet her own feelings must also be subsumed under principle. Nothing was as important to the preservation of Pemberley's impeccable reputation as the moral character of those entrusted with its care.


	3. Chapter 3

The following Saturday was marketing day for Mrs. Reynolds, and after completing the list with Mr. Olivierre and Constance, she departed for Lambton. Joseph was to drive the carriage, which contributed greatly to her pleasure in the outing. She cherished every moment of the short ride to the village with him and told him all she could of news about his older sisters and their children. The ride was over too soon for her liking.

The first stop was the fabric shop owned by Mrs. Alice Sonnley, a fine seamstress in her own right. She had sewn the curtains for the new guest nursery room and had been expecting Mrs. Reynolds to collect them that day. Eager to secure Mrs. Darcy's favor over the competition in London, she had also prepared a wide assortment of swatches from her finest wares. She spoke at length about the advantages of each, pulled them taut to demonstrate their durability, and allowed Mrs. Reynolds to touch them. The effort was really excessive, but Mrs. Sonnley did not know that the mistress of Pemberley was herself country-bred and already aware that the craftsmanship in market villages, at least for some things, was equal to that of London.

Mrs. Reynolds took the swatches from Mrs. Sonnley, chose some utilitarian fabrics and threads for mending, and looked over the less expensive fabrics for those few of the maidservants who felt they could afford to spare a little from their wages and treat themselves. She found her own treat as well: a simple calico for a dress for her newest grandchild. No matter how busy her schedule or how great her fatigue, nothing would prevent her from making it. She would sew with her eyes half-closed if necessary. Mrs. Sonnley handed her a long and detailed receipt, and she gathered her parcels, light enough for her to carry out of the store without Joseph's assistance.

As she proceeded with her marketing, Mrs. Reynolds was greeted pleasantly by all shopkeepers and almost every passer-by. She was a well-known figure in Lambton and commanded respect, not only as housekeeper to the family of greatest consequence in the neighborhood, but because of her own good sense and upright manner.

Her final visit was to the butchery. This minimized the amount of time the meat would be exposed, and Mrs. Reynolds liked to take her time examining it carefully. She was particular about everything she bought for Pemberley, and about foods above all else. Joseph left her in the shop and rode off to deliver the Darcys' cards and letters. She had been at the butchery for some time when Mrs. Quinn, proprietress of Lambton Inn, entered the shop.

Mrs. Quinn had been a housekeeper at another great estate in Derbyshire, and after years of saving, she and her husband left their positions and purchased the inn. Mrs. Quinn was undoubtedly an astute manager, and her inn was prosperous, but while Mrs. Reynolds did not have as much wealth, she was nevertheless held in higher estimation in the neighborhood. This irked Mrs. Quinn exceedingly.

"Good morning, Hester," said Mrs. Quinn.

"Good morning, Mrs. Quinn," answered Mrs. Reynolds. "I hope you are well."

"Oh, yes, thank you. Getting veal today, I see. Early in the season, but it looks good."

Mrs. Reynolds agreed with a silent nod.

"And how is your lovely mistress? I do like her so much. Why, who would have thought that when Mr. Darcy visited her at the inn last summer, he was actually courting her?" Mrs. Quinn fancied that having had Mrs. Darcy as a guest gave her a point of distinction over Mrs. Reynolds.

Mrs. Reynolds recalled a conversation in the period to which Mrs. Quinn alluded. She had asked the pretty young visitor if she knew Mr. Darcy and received an embarrassed "a little" as a reply.

She turned to Mrs. Quinn and told her, "I certainly knew nothing of it." She hoped this would end the conversation, but Mrs. Quinn persisted.

"We have a very interesting guest right now, in fact. Do you remember Sir Harrington who owned Dovedale years ago?"

Mrs. Reynolds did remember. She had never met Sir Harrington of Dovedale, but she knew that he had passed away a few months after Lady Anne. At the time, many people speculated that Sir Harrington's widow, a noblewoman from a foreign country, would become the next wife of the elder Mr. Darcy. Even then, Mrs. Reynolds knew the whole business was foolishness - Mr. Darcy would never re-marry - but the matter was not settled in the minds of many until the widow sold the estate and left with her children for her native country.

"That was quite some time ago," said Mrs. Reynolds, "nearly eleven years. I forget where she came from."

"The Contessa is from Venice," Mrs. Quinn informed her importantly. "Her son, the young Sir Harrington, is staying at the inn, looking for a house in Derbyshire for them to lease. Such a harrowing story he told; their country is utterly destroyed from the war."

Affecting an intimacy with the noblewoman she had never met, Mrs. Quinn continued, "The Contessa has suffered terribly from the upheaval, so the son feels the quiet of the countryside will do her some good. She waits for him in London with her daughter and son-in-law."

In spite of herself, Mrs. Reynolds' attention was caught. Seeing this, Mrs. Quinn paused to add emphasis to her next words, contrived to affect Mrs. Reynolds, "The Contessa remembered the name 'Darcy' from her days in Derbyshire and told her son to seek out the family. I daresay your master should call on him first - he is the son of a Contessa, after all. Please tell Mr. Darcy that Sir Harrington is staying at the inn."

Mrs. Quinn then turned to the meats triumphantly. Her guests outranked the Darcys, and had occasioned her giving advice to her formidable rival. With a mixture of servility and self-importance, she received Mrs. Reynolds' thanks for the information. Mrs. Reynolds would indeed impart it to Mr. Darcy, although she would not go so far as to make suggestions for his social calendar.

The sound of the carriage alerted Mrs. Reynolds that she should conclude her marketing. The butcher gave her a sizable quantity of fat for soap and candles, and she politely escaped Mrs. Quinn. Joseph helped her with the packages.

"I will need help sorting through the receipts before I give them to the steward," she told Joseph as they rode away. "Perhaps we will have time this evening." She was grateful she could rely on him for this sort of help, and as she asked for it, she was struck by a sudden thought. Joseph was likely to be able to tell her something about what Mrs. Quinn's guests had experienced in Venice. He had explained Bonaparte to her before, how he had not begun as a tyrant, but had actually promised democracy and liberality to the commoners. Few things could excite Joseph more than such a discussion. Mrs. Reynolds understood that at least part of his passion was simply his youth, but she liked to think that his strong sense of justice came from her late husband and herself. In general, however, she paid little heed to political ideals. Politics and war was men's business, and she was perfectly content to leave it to them. She dismissed the idea and returned to more home concerns.

"Mr. Bennet told me he enjoyed meeting you."

The young man smiled. "That is a compliment. Mr. Bennet is an intelligent man. Except for Mr. Darcy, I do not think I have ever met anyone so well read."

"Well read, but not always well bred," thought Mrs. Reynolds. She was exceedingly puzzled by Mr. Bennet. He had praised her son, but he had hurt Miss Darcy. His unexpected visit to Pemberley seemed an intrusion, but he had proved mindful of a young couple's need for privacy and spent much of his time during his visit in the library. But Mrs. Reynolds could not justify sharing these thoughts with Joseph; she had meant only to tell what related to him, so she changed the subject and asked him about his progress in his studies. Since finishing at the local school months ago, he had been preparing for university examinations. He began to speak with a fervor she seldom saw from him, and while she did not follow all the particulars of what he said, she thoroughly enjoyed hearing him go on so cleverly.

Once again, the ride back to Pemberley ended too soon for Mrs. Reynolds. She had much to attend to in the house. The servants worked doubly hard on Saturdays so that Sunday could be their day of rest. One of the day’s tasks was the beating of the carpets, and as the carriage approached, a few menservants were carrying them back indoors. Mrs. Reynolds was pleased to see it, but then she spied Martha hastily running back to the laundry lines. Evidently, she had noticed Mrs. Reynolds in time to escape anything incriminating.

"Bring the parcels in to the kitchen," she told Joseph, "and tell the cooks I will be there shortly. I want to check on the laundry lines."

Martha was prepared for Mrs. Reynolds; she curtsied dutifully and pointed to the dry sheets and clothing in the basket. "It’s warmer today, ma’am, but most of the wash is still wet."

"Well, take the dry things into my workroom to fold them. Polly and Cora should be there. They might need help with the mending."

The command had come from a few days' careful deliberation. By varying the usual division of labor so that Martha mixed more with the female staff, Mrs. Reynolds hoped she could improve the girl. Polly and Cora were exemplary maids, well-mannered and genuinely devoted to their mistresses.

Martha followed her into the workroom. Polly and Cora rose and curtsied when she entered.

"Martha will be joining you girls today. Cora, you will help Martha with the folding, and then she will help you mend the stockings." Cora nodded and smiled gingerly at Martha.

"Shouldn't I help also, ma'am?" asked Polly.

"No, no. Continue with the lace trimming. That requires concentration."

The girls sat down and set themselves to their tasks. Polly smiled broadly at Martha and Mrs. Reynolds felt all the more assured of the success of her plan. Polly and Martha had joined the staff within two weeks of each other, but the former's diligence and friendly disposition had earned Mrs. Reynolds' satisfaction to the same degree that the latter's weak performance had garnered its opposite.

She paused a moment before leaving the maids to admire Polly’s work. "Ah, lace work. How I miss it!" she murmured a little enviously. She gathered Mrs. Darcy's commissions from the fabric shop and left in search of her.

She stopped briefly in the kitchen where she was regaled by the sweet smell of freshly baking bread mixed with the aromas of hearty soups and stews. The staff was in a frenzy of activity. Bridget the scullery maid was scurrying about to comply with the cooks' directions, Constance was slicing vegetables with sure-handed speed, and Mr. Olivierre was examining the meats Mrs. Reynolds had just purchased. He greeted her enthusiastically.

" _C'est magnifique!_ Excellent choices! This will make a delicious roast in honor of our guest."

Mrs. Reynolds received his thanks with pride; everyone knew that the French had turned cooking into a science. Quick to return the compliment, she said, "It smells in here as though you've been working quite hard to honor him already."

"Tomato soup, _English_ style," Constance informed her. "Mr. Bennet’s favorite. And we will not starve either." She lifted uncovered a pot of stew for Mrs. Reynolds smiled at her with an appreciative, "Mmm."

"Perhaps you can send in a boy to carry the meats into the larder?" asked Mr. Olivierre. "I think they are too heavy for Bridget."

"I will send Joseph in directly. Do not forget to save me all the fat you can spare for soap and candles."

She met Joseph outside the study, just dismissed from the Darcys after bringing them their cards and letters.

"Please remove your jacket and go help carry the meats."

He nodded and whispered, "I had to give the master everything, Mother, including the receipts."

Mrs. Reynolds' confidence plummeted. She would now have to account for the receipts without her son's help and this would risk the exposure of a secret of hers. Her eyesight was weakening and she could not bring herself to purchase spectacles. She chided herself for her vanity; she knew she had never been handsome, but she had always been exceptionally healthy and strong, and this was a most unwelcome reminder of her age. Joseph, in helping her, knew what was amiss, but his deference for his mother kept him from mentioning it in any direct way. She knocked on the study door in dread.

"I have the finished curtains and some swatches for Mrs. Darcy," she said curtsying. "Should I return later?"

"Oh, no, I am perfectly at my leisure," replied the mistress pleasantly.

"But before you begin, Mrs. Reynolds, could you please explain the various purchases on this receipt?" asked Mr. Darcy.

Mrs. Reynolds steeled herself as the master handed her the long receipt from the fabric shop. The print was too small for her, but she held the paper as if reading it, and relying entirely on memory, enumerated the day’s purchases, explaining which were Pemberley's expenses, which belonged to the servants, and whose wages must be adjusted accordingly. Mrs. Reynolds was much relieved that her memory at least was intact enough to save her from the appearance of incompetence before the Darcys.

Her concealment successful, she soon recovered herself and remembered the message from Mrs. Quinn. "I have news of a Sir Harrington, sir. His father owned Dovedale years ago and was acquainted with your father, may he rest in peace. Young Sir Harrington is now seeking property in Derbyshire and is staying at Lambton Inn."

The name "Harrington" barely elicited a reaction, but as soon as Mrs. Reynolds had mentioned the inn, husband and wife glanced at each other shyly, even sadly, as though sharing some bittersweet recollections. Mrs. Reynolds instantly understood that whatever it meant, it was none of her concern, so she curtsied and again suggested, "Should I return with the swatches later, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Oh, no, I am perfectly at my leisure," the mistress repeated, rebounding with a glowing smile at her husband. He returned it in his more subdued way, but behind it lay a depth of emotion which Mrs. Reynolds could not fail to notice. She was quite moved by it, and happy for the young couple, but embarrassed at having witnessed such a private moment. As she followed the mistress to another room, she resolved to put the exchange out of her mind. Mrs. Quinn might wish to credit herself for the feelings that had developed between the Darcys in Lambton Inn, but Mrs. Reynolds would not presume to conjecture about them.

But there was one quarter in which Mrs. Reynolds would permit herself more familiarity than was normally expected between masters and servants, and that was where Miss Darcy was concerned. It seemed to her that Darcys should be told of Miss Georgiana's retreat into her late father's room, and the present interview with the mistress, less formal than the daily ones in which they discussed the housekeeping, was opportune for mentioning so delicate a subject.

When the master brought Miss Darcy home from Ramsgate nearly two years ago, Mrs. Reynolds was the only trusted female figure in her life. Brother and sister loved each other dearly, but neither felt at ease in discussing matters of courtship, so it fell to her to console Miss Darcy. Since then she was firmly convinced that the entire incident might have been prevented if Miss Darcy had had a sister, someone close to her own age and station in whom she confide the secrets of her heart. Now at last Miss Darcy had a sister, and the attachment between them was exactly what Mrs. Reynolds had hoped to see. The mistress would know precisely how to treat the present matter.

In describing the scene, Mrs. Reynolds was careful to omit any mention of Mr. Bennet. There was no need to embarrass Mrs. Darcy for her father's indiscretion; she had been present when he made his unfortunate joke. Mrs. Reynolds' sole object in this discussion was to convey the extent of Miss Darcy's distress. That she seemed to have sought to exasperate herself as much as possible with young Wickham's image was worrisome indeed.

Mrs. Darcy was duly grieved on hearing it. "I thank you for telling me, Mrs. Reynolds. I am sure the memory of the late Mr. Darcy would not be tarnished by a slight alteration to his room. But I wonder . . ." she looked at Mrs. Reynolds as if struck by a new idea, "Yes, perhaps you are the very person to advise us. Mr. Darcy received a letter from his cousin, the Colonel - he will join us for dinner Monday night - and he also asked - well, pleaded really - that Miss Darcy accompany him to Rosings for Easter. He presented it as a means to achieve peace between Lady De Bourgh and ourselves, but Mr. Darcy refuses to involve Georgiana in the quarrel. I agree with him on that head, but what you have told me indicates that perhaps a change of scene might do Miss Darcy some good."

Any reluctance Mrs. Reynolds might have felt at mentioning a more personal matter was fully vindicated by the request; she was honored that Mrs. Darcy valued her opinion on matters other than housekeeping. She answered in the honest vein in which the discussion had begun, "Well, madam, Lady De Bourgh is -"

The mistress spared her from saying it, "The Colonel assures us he can distract Lady De Bourgh from questioning Georgiana." The mistress giggled mischievously. "He has an ingenious plan. He will ask her advice about a young lady he has met."

"Clever lad! That will occupy her!" Mrs. Reynolds blurted out, and before she could apologize, she and Mrs. Darcy were laughing heartily.

Through it all, though, Mrs. Reynolds could not help but wonder if the Colonel had a specific young lady in mind. She had known him since he was a little boy, the favorite playmate of Master William, and she had watched the cousins grow into respectable gentlemen. Mrs. Reynolds dearly wished to see the Colonel rewarded with a happy marriage as his cousin had been, but she felt certain the story must be a ruse. He was not likely to seek Lady De Bourgh's counsel on any matter, and certainly not one of this nature.

Remembering that Mrs. Darcy had not asked her opinion on the Colonel's affairs, but on sending Miss Darcy to Kent, she replied, "The Colonel a good man, madam. I am certain he can protect and entertain Miss Darcy very well. I see nothing wrong in the visit, if she wishes it."

"We have not yet asked her. Mr. Darcy is adamantly opposed, but I suspect the Colonel will prevail by appealing to his sympathy." Mrs. Reynolds smothered another laugh, for she comprehended Mrs. Darcy's implication. Without Georgiana at Rosings with him, the Colonel was assured of thorough and intense boredom.

Mrs. Darcy's examined her new nursery curtains. "If we do send Miss Darcy," she said brightly, "perhaps she can convey a gift from me. My dear friend is married to Lady De Bourgh's vicar. I have not seen her since my wedding, and she has just had a baby girl. This fabric would make a pretty baby dress, don't you think?"

"Perhaps you might want to see the calico I've just purchased for my granddaughter. It is not as fine as this, but it would be very sweet on a baby girl."

"Yes, I would like to see it."

Mrs. Reynolds rushed back to her workroom to get it for Mrs. Darcy, but by the time she returned, Mr. Bennet had joined his daughter.

"The fabric, madam," said Mrs. Reynolds, curtsying stiffly.

Mrs. Darcy took it from her. "Oh, yes, it is very sweet. I think Georgiana and I will enjoy an outing to Lambton to purchase it ourselves. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds." The warmth in her eyes told Mrs. Reynolds that the mistress was thanking her for much more than the fabric.

"Do you like this, Papa? I think I will have a gift made for Charlotte's baby and send it through a messenger."

"I am glad you have a liaison, my dear, although I could have brought it to the Lucases for you. I do not mind interfering in a vicar's duty in executing the grudges of his patroness."

Mrs. Darcy laughed, "You are too kind, sir, but I am afraid you will have left by the time it is finished." Turning to Mrs. Reynolds, she explained, "My father leaves us on Tuesday."

"And so I will take the present opportunity to thank you for helping my daughter acclimate to her new responsibilities. The household of her upbringing is very different than this one. She tells me your advice and assistance have been invaluable."

"Th -thank you, sir," stammered Mrs. Reynolds, utterly astonished at receiving a compliment from the eccentric gentleman.

Mr. Bennet seemed more amused than insulted by her reaction, and laughingly added, "Mrs. Reynolds, please do not look at me so reproachfully. If I do say so myself, I improve on acquaintance."

She was too disconcerted to make any reply.

Mrs. Darcy moved close to Mrs. Reynolds and whispered desperately, "Please do not be offended. He means to ridicule himself. He respects you very much. He would never say so otherwise." She placed the fabric into Mrs. Reynolds' hands with a gentle squeeze. In a louder voice the mistress added, "Could you send in some tea - earl grey for my father and raspberry for me?"

"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Reynolds with a curtsy. She walked out composedly, but seethed inwardly. "Only for her sake," she thought as she searched for a footman to see to the tea, "will I endeavor to tolerate him. All his praise of me originates with her, and he could not even speak it without taunting me. I, looking at him reproachfully, indeed!"

She stormed back to her workroom and paused at the door to hear how Polly and Cora were faring with Martha. The three maids were busy in girlish chatter.

"Can you make a lace wedding dress?" came Martha's voice.

"Oh, no. I do some trimming, but a whole lace dress could take months! It would be foolish to delay marriage for the sake of a dress," answered Polly.

"No it isn’t. You want to look your best," Martha retorted.

This comment gave Mrs. Reynolds precious little encouragement. It was a relief to know at least that Martha thought about weddings, but she showed no appreciation for the seriousness and sanctity of marriage.

"I hope you will be the first among us to marry," Cora told her sister.

"Ellen and Nancy are both older than I am," Polly protested, "And so is Constance, but she - "

"Who'd want ornery, old Constance?" scoffed Martha.

"Hush! Do not talk so!" cried Cora.

"Martha, be fair," said Polly. "Constance has a kind heart, and I daresay she had opportunity to marry at some time or other. If she has waited this long, it must be that she does not want to be married."

"Well," Martha replied, "if she ever did have a chance, it were with some ordinary servant or farmer. You'll get someone better, like a house steward."

Mrs. Reynolds entered the workroom, and the three girls stood and curtsied.

"We have finished the stockings, ma'am," Cora showed her.

"The folding, too, I see. Good work, all of you. Now put it away. Soon it will be time for our dinner. Wait, Polly, I want to look at the lace."

Cora and Martha went upstairs with the basket of clothing and Polly held the lace out for Mrs. Reynolds. The lace had been a pretense; her real intent was to ask Polly about Martha, but she strained her eyes to examine the stitching and then declared, "Excellent work. Did all go well for you girls today? Was Martha a help to you?"

"Yes, ma’am."

"Good. Would it bother you to befriend her in your leisure, as well? She is not as educated as you or Cora, but she sorely needs your influence."

"I would be happy to, ma'am."

"Excellent." She turned to the remaining parcel from Mrs. Sonnley's shop. "Here is the fabric you wanted - good for a new apron. And here is some extra trimming besides. You are dismissed."

Polly's eyes widened with pleasure. "Thank you, ma’am!"

"Thank you, Polly."

Polly complied with Mrs. Reynolds' request with a zeal that was well beyond Mrs. Reynolds' expectations. She began by sitting beside Martha at the next meal and introduced the topic of sewing amongst the girls. She and Nancy were the only two who had asked for anything from Mrs. Sonnley's shop, and after Nancy described her plans for a new Sunday bonnet, Polly related her own.

"My former mistress gave me a dress stained with wine, and I was planning on covering it with an apron, but now I've decided to add ruffle and embroidery, and I think I'll be able to wear it on special occasions. The dress itself is real silk."

"It does not seem honest that you did not tell her that you could repair the dress," Nancy said. "Perhaps she might have kept it for herself."

"I doubt it. She was always having new dresses made."

"You would tell Mrs. Darcy."

"If Lady Smalling had treated me the way Mrs. Darcy does, perhaps I would have told her. But it is difficult to serve someone with your best effort when you know you will be reprimanded nonetheless."

"You must wear it to our next dance," suggested Cora. Most estates organized occasional dances for their servants, but because of the long-standing close relations between Pemberley and Matlock, and the liberality both houses liked to exert, servants' dances came to be held jointly. Other estates later joined in the custom, and now Derbyshire servants were treated to dances more frequently than most of their contemporaries.

"Not if it's at Bradwell, you shouldn't. From what I hear, your Lady Smalling will not like seeing her finery on the maid who quit her for Pemberley," warned Constance.

"She did give it willingly," said Polly, slightly affronted. Constance shrugged.

The other maids began questioning Mrs. Reynolds excitedly, "When will we have our next dance? Might we have one after Easter?"

Mrs. Reynolds chuckled and said, "It would be nice, when the weather warms up a bit."

"Well, if you ask me," said Nancy, "it is very unkind of Mrs. Quinn not to offer Lambton Inn to us. If the gentry can host us, so can she."

"And then the soldiers could be there," said Martha. The other maids looked at her sternly. They had all received many a warning to stay away from the soldiers.

Constance smiled smugly, "What say you to that, Mrs. Reynolds?"

Mrs. Reynolds surprised them all with her reply. "I would permit soldiers at a dance if a married officer would chaperone. Some soldiers are fine lads that any of you would do well to meet and marry." She glanced briefly at the menservants' table. The lads were more absorbed in their meal than they were in the maids' conversation. She looked around at the girls and lowered her voice, "But life is hard for soldiers' wives. I would prefer to see you girls marry other household servants, and attach yourselves to the benefits an estate like Pemberley can offer."

A few of the girls glanced slyly at the menservants' table, Martha most conspicuous among them. Quietly but firmly, Mrs. Reynolds added, mostly for her benefit, "But before you form any attachments, be absolutely certain that the young man is honorable."


	4. Chapter 4

Polly's attention to Martha continued on Sunday at church and at all the subsequent meals. She also complimented Martha's hair and employed her as a model so that she and Cora could practice hairdressing on her. Martha, who had probably never known such attention in her life, began following her benefactress with an almost childish attachment. Mrs. Reynolds then grew worried about overtaxing Polly, and decided that Nancy could share some of the burden. Nancy was more reserved than Polly, but she was a steady worker who might also prove to be a valuable influence. Enlisting Martha's help in soap making seemed a favorable way to put the two maids together, and as Mrs. Reynolds had hoped, crisp and clear weather the following Monday provided ideal conditions for the task, so she set the ambitious goal of producing enough that day, along with the current supply in storage, to last Pemberley until autumn.

Nancy spent her morning leaching wood to make lye, and after Mrs. Reynolds had discharged her own morning duties, she went into the storage room to collect the other ingredients. Fat was the most important, and while the girls built the fires outdoors, she donned immaculate work gloves, meticulously laundered for this purpose, and separated the fat, reserving the best to become soap for the Darcy family's personal use. Most of the remainder would become soap for household needs and some would be made into candles.

Next she shed her gloves and headed toward the large glass jugs which contained the aromatic waters which would scent the Darcys' soap and whose production she oversaw throughout the spring and summer each year. Mrs. Reynolds savored the sweet fragrance of the rose water as she poured some into a large vial, and fondly remembered Lady Anne who once said she preferred Mrs. Reynolds' rose water to the imported perfumes of Paris. She poured a little spearmint water into a smaller vial for gentlemen's soap, and then lavender water into two others. The lavender would be for the two maids. If Martha was truly mending her ways, it behooved Mrs. Reynolds to reward her.

When Mrs. Reynolds joined the girls outdoors, two menservants were helping them lug buckets of water from the well and fill three pots already perched over blazing fires on the outdoor hearths. Mrs. Reynolds dismissed the lads and looked inside the two smaller pots. The water was already bubbling to a hard boil. "How many buckets went into these?"

"Five, each," Nancy answered.

She calculated the amount of lye necessary and had Nancy measure and pour in the solution. She added the fat, and the mixture sizzled and steamed up instantly. Mrs. Reynolds and Nancy began stirring vigorously and Martha quickly followed.

"There," said Mrs. Reynolds, when the mixture had turned to a creamy consistency. "We shall stop." The girls wrinkled their noses from the odor.

"Now you know why we do this outdoors," said Nancy.

"I work outdoors ‘most every day. And I don't get to stand near a fire." said Martha. "I can't wait for summer," she finished with a sigh.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at them sternly, but made no comment. Instead she said, "We're ready for the molds. Be careful. You don’t want to burn yourselves." She and Nancy scooped up the liquid mixture into small buckets and filled the square molds Nancy had lined up on a work table. Martha promptly joined them and when they finished Mrs. Reynolds clucked her approval.

"Let them cool a little before we carry them in. You may warm yourselves by the fire."

The girls eagerly drew nearer the fire while Mrs. Reynolds counted the remaining empty molds for the next and largest batch. "I'm afraid this will not be enough. Go inside both of you, and bring out all we have. They’re on the top shelf on the far left in the stillroom."

Away ran the girls, happy to receive an indoor task, but when they did not return for some minutes, Mrs. Reynolds went after them. Before she had even entered the house, she heard a high-pitched squeal, and when she burst into the room, was met with Martha and Timothy standing very close together. Martha, who was holding several empty molds, let them clatter to the floor. Timothy remained the same, smirking smugly.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Mrs. Reynolds bellowed.

"Umm. . . I . . . couldn’t reach the molds, ma'am," said Martha curtsying impetuously.

"And where is Nancy?!"

"Here I am, ma'am," came Nancy’s voice. She hastened back to the stillroom, curtsied, and explained, "There was a noise in one of the storage room and I thought squirrels had got in."

"Were there any? Did they get at anything?"

"Two, ma'am, but they didn't get at anything. I looked through all the storage rooms."

"Miraculous," she mumbled to herself. She turned to Timothy and snapped, "Don’t just stand there! Make yourself useful and carry the molds outside! And then - back to your own work!"

The lad complied immediately, glad to have escaped Mrs. Reynolds' wrath with so light a punishment as carrying empty soap molds. As soon as he was out of sight, Mrs. Reynolds said, "Now we will carry the filled molds back in here." The two girls followed her outdoors, and all conversation amongst them ceased. As they precariously carried the filled molds back into the stillroom, each was engrossed in private thoughts. Mrs. Reynolds was furious at the meeting between Martha and Timothy and was certain they had planned it secretly, Martha feared for her position, and Nancy worried that Mrs. Reynolds would suspect her of complicity.

With the filled molds in their proper places for cooling and storage, it was time for Mrs. Reynolds to add the fragrant waters. It was at this very point that she had hoped to present the girls with the lavender water. There could be no reward now, at least not for Martha. Indeed, Mrs. Reynolds was uncertain as to whether she should keep the girl on staff. She resolved to speak to Nancy for information before making any decision.

When they returned outdoors, the largest pot was boiling and they immediately added the ingredients. Stirring this pot took all their strength, and gave them an excuse not to talk. They were all anxious to finish quickly and worked in efficient but ominous silence. Martha dashed off as soon as she was dismissed. Mrs. Reynolds immediately began to question Nancy.

"Now, please tell me, what was Timothy doing in the stillroom?"

"Martha asked him in, ma'am, when I was shooing away the squirrels."

"And do you know why he was near the stillroom at that time?"

Nancy began fidgeting with her apron. " _I_ don't know, ma'am."

Mrs. Reynolds took pity when she saw how much she was unnerving the poor girl. "Do not fret, child. You have done nothing wrong. Just please tell me this: do you think Martha and Timothy planned to meet each other there?"

"I suppose it is possible," Nancy faltered. "He was one of the ones who helped with the fires. Perhaps they talked about it when I was not listening."

"Thank you, Nancy. You have been very helpful."

Mrs. Reynolds reached into her pocket and handed the girl the two vials of lavender water. The reward brightened Nancy’s mood considerably, and Mrs. Reynolds was relieved to see it. At least there was some small source of happiness to be gleaned from the conversation; the next one she faced was with Mr. Hammond regarding Timothy, and that promised no joy whatsoever.

Mr. Hammond gave her a fresh source of suspicion that had not occurred to her. He attributed Timothy's presence in the stillroom to theft rather than lascivious behavior, and the two went immediately back to the storage room to check the wine stock. Mr. Hammond counted three bottles missing.

"Shall we search their quarters?" he asked grimly. With a twinge of guilt, she agreed. Joseph's voice echoed in her head, espousing ideals of rights and privacy.

The mens' quarters were on the same lowest level of the house as the storage and still rooms, so they went there first. Mr. Hammond methodically turned over the beds while Mrs. Reynolds searched dresser drawers. Most were unremarkable, but one contained lewd pictures which shocked her.

"This drawer, I assume, is Timothy's?" she asked, removing the pictures to burn them at the next opportunity. Mr. Hammond nodded and she continued rummaging through it. She found a surprisingly large sum of money in a sock and a worn deck of cards, which provided the explanation for the former. Cards were not forbidden to the staff, although clearly they could lead to abuse and vice.

Her findings in hand, she turned toward Mr. Hammond who was turning over the last of the beds, the one she knew to be Joseph’s. And there, underneath the bed frame, stood the three missing bottles of wine.

"Good G-d! It cannot be!" cried Mrs. Reynolds.

Mr. Hammond, in a rare gesture of intimacy, grasped her shoulders to calm her. "I am sure he is blameless. It is quite a cunning hiding place. The thief knew Joseph is beyond reproach."

Mrs. Reynolds lost her composure entirely. "Of course Joseph did not take them! Timothy was in the stillroom! He must be dismissed!" She was so enraged she wanted to cry. Character ought to be enough to exonerate Joseph, but the evidence incriminated him more strongly than it did Timothy. If Joseph went unpunished, the others would cry favoritism, and the punishment for theft was dismissal. The thief had hidden himself cleverly indeed.

"I think we should take this up with the master," said Mr. Hammond, desperate to reassure her. "You know he will treat the matter with justice." Mrs. Reynolds sighed in acquiescence. She and Mr. Hammond seldom found it necessary to go to Mr. Darcy with the discipline problems that arose amongst the staff, but in this instance, in which she could not be objective, it was necessary.

Every servant in the house knew about the stolen wine by their dinnertime, and the tension amongst them had never been worse. Joseph, however, bore it with amazing equanimity. As Mrs. Reynolds watched him calmly ignore the other menservants' jeers, she tried to be equally calm, but inwardly, grew increasingly agitated.

"Had to make up for those losses, eh Joseph?" chided Timothy.

Mrs. Reynolds started at his words.

"The game's up now. Even Mama knows it. You tricked 'em all but good." Timothy elbowed the lads beside him who joined him in a laugh. Mrs. Reynolds took a bite of stew to keep herself from reacting, but feared that at any moment, she would lose control and have to flee the table to hide her tears. Constance saw her plight and took up Joseph’' cause in her stead.

"Shut your bleedin' mouths. We all know Timothy's the biggest trickster among us. Or perhaps not. Annoy me just enough and you'll find something in your supper that will lay you up with a sour stomach for days. Don't think I wouldn’t do it."

The lads did not doubt her, and were effectively silenced.

"Her bearishness has its advantages," thought Mrs. Reynolds, who knew perfectly well that Constance would never do as she had threatened.

The meeting with Mr. Darcy took place that evening, attended by Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Hammond, Timothy, Joseph, Martha, and Nancy. It was a brief meeting, for Mr. Darcy was wanted to entertain the visiting Colonel Fitzwilliam, but as Mr. Hammond had predicted, the master treated the matter with justice, if not charity. He declared himself convinced of Joseph's innocence, which was a consolation to Mrs. Reynolds and not wholly unexpected either, but he also said that he could come to no fair conclusion about Timothy. When found in the stillroom, he had been, after all, helping the maids with their work. The punishment he recommended was that all four lower servants be scrutinized for the next three months, and if any of them was found deficient in any way, he or she must be dismissed. There would be no fine for the cost of the stolen wine, for its value would have exhausted their wages, and the bottles had been recovered in any case. All were also forbidden from going on any outings for the duration of their probation.

Mrs. Reynolds' heart sank as Mr. Darcy pronounced the final punishment, and Joseph, who had shown such fortitude through the whole ordeal, now looked stricken. This would prevent him from attending the upcoming university entrance examinations.

As fervently as she might have wished it, Mrs. Reynolds would not dare to contradict the master, but their eyes did meet, and he looked at her imploringly as if to say, "This is the justice my revered father taught me. I cannot allow the crime to go unpunished. Joseph will have another chance." Hurt as she felt, she was thus assured that the master would not abandon Joseph.

But then Nancy caught her eye. She could speak on Nancy's behalf without any perception of favoritism from the other staff.

"If you please, sir," she began, curtsying, "Nancy has had keys to the storage and stillrooms almost as long as she has been on staff. Nothing has ever gone missing before, and she was doing her duty in the storage room, protecting the stock from squirrels."

"Then Nancy should have nothing to fear in this period of probation," said Mr. Darcy. He dismissed them and quit the room. Mr. Hammond led Timothy out, demonstrating already how closely he intended to watch the lad, and Joseph nodded to his mother to let her know he would be studying in her room as usual. Mrs. Reynolds' eye followed him with fondness, for the tensions of the day left her with no desire for anyone's society but his. Martha seized that moment to run past Mrs. Reynolds without a word, and that left Nancy, who curtsied and thanked Mrs. Reynolds for speaking on her behalf.

"Oh, my dear," sighed Mrs. Reynolds. "I am so sorry it has come to this. My intent was that you should influence Martha. I never dreamed that she might somehow implicate you in her mischief. But do take heart in what the master said. It is only three months - you will probably miss only one dance - and when it is over, I promise I will make it up to you."

Quietly, Nancy said, "Then you understand, ma'am, that I wish never to work alongside Martha again."

Mrs. Reynolds promised and dismissed the girl. Polly had meanwhile come to speak to her as well, and she suspected it was with the very same request.

"I have just spoken to Martha, ma'am," she said with a nervous curtsy. "She insists she was doing nothing but working, but she understands why it might have appeared otherwise. She is grateful you are giving her another chance, and if she were not so frightened, she would thank you herself."

"It is kind of you to speak for her in this way," said Mrs. Reynolds, doubting that any of the sentiments Polly had ascribed to Martha were accurate, other than fear.

"You asked me to befriend her, ma’am, and I do believe I can be of use."

"Are you certain it will not be too much for you? Nancy is now on three month's probation because of this."

"I am not worried."

"And what about your duties to Mrs. Darcy?"

"Mrs. Darcy is the kindest mistress who ever lived. I could never neglect her, and I still have time for Martha in my leisure."

"Very well, but I want you to understand this: if I ever catch Martha and Timothy in the fact, I will dismiss them both without a character. And if that should happen, you must not regard it as a failure on your part."

"Yes, ma'am. Oh, thank you, ma'am. You will not be disappointed." She curtsied and ran back to her quarters.

Now alone, Mrs. Reynolds could at last retire to her own quarters and speak to Joseph. Timothy's allusion to Joseph's "losses" at dinner had piqued her, and she had been longing since then to understand the meaning of it. She entered her room wearily and smiled to see how Joseph had prepared for her. A threaded needle lay alongside the calico baby dress she had started to make. She sat down and looked at him piteously, yet even before him, she dared not cry.

"All will be well, Mother, you will see. There will be more entrance examinations in a few months."

"My dearest boy, you are too good. That Timothy has used you abominably!"

Joseph acknowledged this with a resigned nod. "I daresay we will have justice yet. Timothy cannot last much longer here. He will not survive his probation."

She picked up her needle and sewed a few stitches. He soon gratified her by speaking more.

"I deliberately lost to him at cards, Mother."

"But why?"

"I was tired of all his boasting, and I thought I might distract him and keep him away - "

"From the maids?"

He nodded. "Joseph, you must stop that at once. It only increases his appetite for other vices, and has no effect in keeping him away from the maids. You see how he and Martha were together this afternoon."

"I doubt she's a thief. A bit foolish perhaps."

Mrs. Reynolds sarcastically echoed his "perhaps" and added, "She will probably not survive her probation either. Why, just two days ago, I asked Polly to befriend her in hope of influencing her. Now it seems all in vain."

Joseph's face suddenly brightened. "Was that your idea? I did notice it." He hastily returned to his book. "Polly is a good girl, Mother. She might just succeed with her."

The fleeting changes in her son's demeanor startled Mrs. Reynolds. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but there was no other way of accounting for it, or for his sudden interest in protecting the maids, than supposing a partiality to Polly. The notion gave her unexpected comfort. She had never seen him in love before, and sometimes worried that all the alertness of his mind was somehow at the expense of his heart. Perhaps this delay in his plans for university would see him quite attached or perhaps even engaged. But it was not her wish to force his communication; she had seen something to interest, but nothing to justify inquiry, so she took up her sewing and allowed him to study in silence. Within minutes, however, she found she could not concentrate and left him alone to seek another means of soothing herself.

Although it was a breach of her routine, she ascended the stairs to the gallery, and lit a fire and candles there. Miss Darcy was playing a long recital for the visiting Colonel Fitzwilliam in her sitting room and had just begun a slow, contemplative piece that suited Mrs. Reynolds' mood perfectly. With the doors open, the music resounded throughout the gallery, and Mrs. Reynolds let it uplift her until she worried no more. The melody grew steadily more complex, and Mrs. Reynolds felt like swaying to it, but instead took up a dustcloth and wiped the portrait frames rhythmically. With some final slow chords, Miss Darcy finished the piece, and faster, brighter pieces followed. Mrs. Reynolds' spirits lightened along with them and soon she was filled with the urge to skip or jump, but she was far to self-conscious to do so, even while alone. She was happier, though, and remained there listening for a long time, even as the candles flickered and the room grew dim. When all but one had extinguished themselves, she lifted up the last and used it to guide herself back downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Bennet was expected to leave Pemberley on Tuesday, so the Darcys accepted several invitations away from home that week, the first of which was a concert at Lambton Inn. Miss Darcy, who otherwise shied from society, showed great interest in attending the concert, but would only do so in the company of her family and governess. Mr. Bennet was persuaded on to delay his departure in favor of the concert, so he joined the party as well. It was at that event that the Darcys were introduced to Mrs. Quinn’s eminent guest Sir Albert Harrington, the son of the contessa, and they engaged him for dinner at Pemberley for two nights later.

The Darcys requested Italian cuisine in their guest’s honor much to the delight of Mr. Olivierre, who relished every opportunity to cook in European style. He spent the following day in zealous preparation, and his exacting demands in the undertaking disgruntled his kitchen staff. Constance complained when Mrs. Reynolds made her rounds to the kitchen.

“Beat the eggs this way,” mimicked Constance, motioning in the air. “My goodness, he acts as though I’d never made noodles before.”

“Be glad he didn’t ask us to cut them,” said Bridget. “Whoever saw noodles so thin?”

Constance scoffed. “Foolishness. The mistress won’t touch a morsel, I am sure of it. She hardly eats anything, except for the plain baked eggs I make her. She prefers an English cook, but I suppose the master needs a foreign one for his town friends.”

“And this is all for tomorrow night,” said Bridget. “We have not done a thing for tonight’s dinner.”

“The Darcys will dine with friends tonight,” Mrs. Reynolds informed her. “Mr. Oliver knows he needs to make only a small repast for Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley.”

“That is Olivierre, Mrs. Reynolds,” corrected the head cook as he walked in. “And Mrs. Darcy has just told me that her father will take dinner with Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley tonight.” He tasted one of his sauces, smiled, and gave a few orders to Bridget.

Mrs. Reynolds thought it strange that Mr. Bennet would delay his departure another day only to remain at Pemberley alone with Miss Darcy, but then, he was a strange man. She felt compelled to protect Miss Darcy from him, and an hour before dinner was to be served, she spoke to Miss Darcy in her sitting room.

“Perhaps you and Mrs. Annesley would like your dinner brought up here?” suggested Mrs. Reynolds. “Mr. Bennet, I am sure, will not mind the solitude.”

Miss Darcy looked up from her drawing and smiled. “There is no need to alter anything. I would not wish to be uncivil, and I know now that I have nothing to fear in Mr. Bennet.”

“As you wish, Miss.”

“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Reynolds, but truly, it is not necessary. Indeed, I find him quite diverting sometimes. You should have heard him spar with Cousin Richard. Dear Richard! I should not even fear Aunt Catherine in his company.”

“Will you be disappointed then, Miss, if you may not visit Kent?”

“Perhaps a little, but I agree of course that my aunt has treated Elizabeth wretchedly.”

Mrs. Reynolds took a few steps closer to admire Miss Darcy’s drawing.

“Even if I had the greatest art masters in the world to instruct me, Miss Darcy, I could never learn to draw like that.”

“Why, of course you could!” said Miss Darcy earnestly. “Everything I know of needlework I learned from you.”

“Oh, that’s entirely different.”

“I assure you it is not. The materials are different, but both fundamentally depend on an appreciation of texture and an understanding of how to blend color. They are both forms of art, only one has practical use, and the other is for display.”

“You are very sweet, Miss Georgiana,” said Mrs. Reynolds, flattered by the affection so strong that would give rise to the unlikely comparison of needlework to art. “Are you ready for Cora, then?”

“She may go to Mrs. Annesley first. I would like to finish this,” and she continued with her drawing.

After returning downstairs and dispatching Cora, Mrs. Reynolds entered the dining parlor to check on the footmen’s progress there. All was well, but she overheard a man’s voice in the late master’s sitting room.

“Martha and Timothy again!” she thought, and burst into the room with all due urgency.

“Oh!” she cried in embarrassed surprise, finding Mr. Bennet and Mr. Hammond in the room.

Seemingly unaffected by her abrupt entrance, Mr. Hammond explained, “Ah, Mrs. Reynolds! I was just showing Mr. Bennet this room again, but since you know the paintings here better than I, I leave him in your capable hands.”

When they were alone, Mr. Bennet smiled at her congenially.  
“I remember seeing a set of drawings of the passing seasons with a few lines of Thomson beneath each. I wanted to examine them again.”

“Miss Darcy was but a child when she drew those, sir,” said Mrs. Reynolds, walking over to them. She paused to admire them herself and instinctively recited the verse, “From brightening fields of earth fair-disclos’d, Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes.”

Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Surely I can forgive a small error from a precocious child, but it is ether fair-disclos’d.” Then, stepping closer to the drawing he said, “Oh, no, she did write it correctly, you see.” He gestured to urge Mrs. Reynolds to look more closely.

The black writing swirled meaninglessly before her eyes.

“Here,” said Mr. Bennet, handing her his spectacles.

With great timidity, Mrs. Reynolds put them on. The writing was now substantially clearer. She had never so fully appreciated how much she had been missing.

“Yes, I see,” she said softly, and then turned and handed back the spectacles. Mr. Bennet received them with a kind smile that bore no trace of mockery. At that moment, Mrs. Reynolds’ feelings toward him softened though she could not feel entirely at ease with him. Although he might at times refrain from exercising his acerbic wit at the foibles he perceived in those around them, it was evident that he was always awake to them.

Mr. Bennet left Pemberley the next day, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy insisted on escorting him in their barouche for a small part of his journey. They were absent well into the afternoon. Mrs. Reynolds was looking over Ellen’s work on the apartment Mr. Bennet had occupied when she was called downstairs. Sir Albert Harrington had arrived early.

If his early arrival surprised Mrs. Reynolds, his demeanor utterly confused her. Like a foreigner, he wore a beard and had a dark complexion, but his speech and manners were like that of any English gentleman. He apologized for any inconvenience; he had hoped to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Reynolds could not tell him when the master would return, but offered to show him Pemberley while he waited. Sir Albert responded with alacrity.

Of Mrs. Reynolds’ many responsibilities, her greatest pleasure came in showing the house to visitors. She took as much pride in the house as did the owners themselves, for its maintenance was largely a reflection of her efforts. She first showed him some of the downstairs rooms: the salon, the library, the dining parlor, the ballroom, and the conservatory. She related the subjects of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture to a keen audience. Sir Albert was knowledgeable about fine furnishings and his questions encouraged her communicativeness. She then brought him up to the gallery to show him the portraits and pointed out the new one of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. “They are newly married.” she explained, “It is a very recent addition.”

“Superb craftsmanship,” commented Sir Albert, “The eyes on Mrs. Darcy are unusually expressive.” He drew close to it to read the signature.

“Mr. Darcy was very selective when he chose the artist,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“It appears that Mr. Darcy is very selective about everything at Pemberley.”

Hearing Mr. Darcy’s tastes praised put Mrs. Reynolds in good spirits. She began to speak in even greater detail. She led him through the hallway, past Miss Darcy’s sitting room, where she was practicing the same piece of music Mrs. Reynolds had heard from the gallery a few nights before. Sir Albert paused to listen.

“Pardon me,” he said in a hushed tone, “but you gave me to understand that Mrs. Darcy is also away from home.”

“That is the master’s sister, the young Miss Darcy, sir.”

He was silent for a few moments. Mrs. Reynolds had never heard of an English gentleman to be so attentive to art or music, so she judged that it must have been more acceptable amongst foreigners. She saw that he was listening to Miss Darcy with more than enjoyment, but with an appreciation born of knowledge. Strange as Sir Albert seemed to her, Mrs. Reynolds knew that his good opinion was worth something. She began to speak effusively.

“I have been at Pemberley five-and-twenty years, sir. I have seen many parties and many ladies eager to display their accomplishments. Some of them were from families who spared no expense on their daughters’ refinement. Not one of them could play and sing as sweetly as Miss Darcy.”

“Indeed,” said Sir Albert, still very quietly, “To play music well, which is to say, to convey real feeling, requires something more than a competent master.”

“If you please, sir, I will take you to the gallery again where you can see some of Miss Darcy’s drawings.”

Sir Albert nodded politely and followed her. “She did this one when she first began drawing,” said Mrs. Reynolds. He seemed drawn to the more recent ones. “That is the view from Miss Darcy’s sitting room,” Mrs. Reynolds informed him.

The music, fully audible from where they were standing, changed. Miss Darcy was singing this time. Sir Albert turned and exclaimed, “She speaks Italian! When she finishes, you must introduce me.”

Mrs. Reynolds knew how much Miss Darcy would be discomfited by such an introduction, but it was impossible to politely refuse the gentleman. The song was shorter than the preceding piece, and when Miss Darcy finished, Mrs. Annesley answered the knock at the door.

“Bella! Suona molto bene! Dove hai imparato Italiano?”

Miss Darcy looked anxiously from Mrs. Annesley to Mrs. Reynolds. She was too fluttered to speak, so Mrs. Annesley spoke for her.

“Good afternoon, Sir. I am Mrs. Annesley, Miss Darcy’s governess. We were introduced at the concert in Lambton, you may recall. Miss Darcy and I have not studied much conversational Italian, I am afraid.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Annesley. Mrs. Quinn introduced me to more people that night than I can possibly remember.” He turned and bowed to Miss Darcy. He could see she was disconcerted, but he could not understand why. He had not thought himself discourteous in any way. “Excuse me for disturbing you, Miss Darcy. You play very well, and your Italian accent is perfect.”

“Miss Darcy does have a facility with languages,” Mrs. Annesley answered. “Her accent comes from imitating her music master.”

“And what an exquisite instrument!” said Sir Albert, looking past them and moving closer to examine it. He surprised everyone else by playing a few notes himself. “It must be a pleasure to play,” he said, smiling at Miss Darcy. She nodded shyly.

“Mr. Darcy purchased it for his sister last summer, sir,” explained Mrs. Reynolds.

“Ah, Sir Albert! We are very pleased you could come.” Mrs. Darcy entered the room, followed by Polly.

“Mrs. Darcy,” he bowed.

“Mrs. Reynolds has shown you Pemberley, I trust?”

“I would not have thought it possible, but it is even more magnificent than it is reputed to be.”

“Thank you, sir. Mrs. Reynolds, would you please announce Sir Albert to Mr. Darcy? He is in his study.” Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and led the gentleman downstairs.

After a long day of traveling, Mrs. Darcy needed rest, so the much anticipated dinner was served late. One result of this was that Cora had time to try a new hairstyle on Miss Darcy, and it became her very well. Her sister complimented her, and when the gentlemen joined them, Miss Darcy was flushed and smiling. Sir Albert could not help but notice this pleasant alteration in the young lady’s demeanor, but his prior encounter had taught him to approach her with far greater reserve. He bowed to both ladies and conversed mainly with Mr. Darcy during dinner.

Mrs. Reynolds found herself racked with curiosity about Sir Albert. Despite every principle she held dear about maintaining the Darcys’ privacy, she sought a pretense to enter the dining room, and sent a manservant to set up card tables in the salon. The Darcys were not fond of cards, but their guest might be, and when the bell sounded, Mrs. Reynolds was obliged to tell the Darcys about the card tables, and her little scheme was disguised as an act of hospitality. Sir Albert, however, made a different suggestion for the evening’s entertainment.

“The pianoforte in Miss Darcy’s room is a treasure!” he said. “Do I have permission to try it?” He looked at Mr. Darcy.

“That is Georgiana’s decision,” replied Mr. Darcy.

Miss Darcy colored and politely gave her consent.

“Thank you, Miss Darcy, and I hope you will honor us with a song as well.”

Miss Darcy blushed more deeply. She had performed for many friends and guests before, but the earnest request of this stranger unnerved her exceedingly. Mrs. Reynolds ached for her, and she blamed herself for having boasted.

The party ascended the stairs while most of the servants retreated to their dining hall. Sir Albert’s strong baritone voice resounded throughout the house.

“I’ve never heard of a gentleman who sings. I thought they just listen,” said Polly.

“What sort of words are those?” asked Ellen.

“Must be Italian,” said Constance. “His mother is an Italian contessa.”

Mrs. Reynolds could not bear the suspense. Constance read her face and smirked. “Why don’t you go to bed, Mrs. Reynolds?” she suggested pertly, “It has been a long day.”

Mrs. Reynolds waited in dread for Constance to laugh at her before the girls, but she did not. She could enjoy a joke at Mrs. Reynolds’ expense without making a sound.

When Mrs. Reynolds was well out of the sight of the other servants, she went upstairs to the gallery as she had a few nights before. She knew every inch of the house, and all the passages connecting the rooms. Although she had never availed herself of them, it was not difficult for her to determine which would be the best positions for safe eavesdropping and a clear view. “It is for Miss Georgiana’s welfare,” she told herself, but she still felt ashamed as she sat down and hid.

Sir Albert was finishing his song. Everyone applauded him, and turning to Miss Darcy, he said, “I would like to hear the owner herself play this excellent instrument. Shall we try a duet?” He got up from the bench and replaced it with two narrow chairs. Mrs. Reynolds understood from this that the gentleman intended for Miss Darcy to play, but not necessarily to sing. This would alleviate her anxiety somewhat, but she hesitated nonetheless.

“Please,” he said gallantly, gesturing for her to sit. It would have been uncivil to refuse, so she sat to the gentleman’s right.

“Do you know Mozart’s Sonata in C for four hands?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Good. I will play in the lower register. Have you ever played like this, with another person on the same instrument?”

“Sometimes, with my teacher,” she answered a little less shyly, “but not often.”

“I have confidence in you. Ready?”

She nodded, and they began to play. She played with her usual proficiency, and peering at her sideways, he began to increase the tempo. She kept up with him until the triumphant finale.

“Brava!” he said to her after everyone else had stopped clapping. “A piece of music does not have to be written for four hands for us to play it as such. We can be inventive.” He then ascertained other pieces she knew and they played them in the same manner. Mrs. Reynolds recognized some of them from Miss Darcy’s practicing, but they sounded different somehow. Then she realized that Sir Albert was inventing variations and Miss Darcy was following, though it took all her concentration. He was playing a sort of musical game with her, and she so delighted in it that she lost awareness of all else in the room. With her eyes fixed on the keys, a radiant smile diffused across her face. She could not have realized how much her own beauty blossomed forth at that moment, nor did she see the growing admiration of the gentleman beside her, or blessedly, her brother’s arrested expression.

The mistress had noticed it, however, and whispered something to her husband. Mrs. Reynolds longed to know what she said, but she was glad to see that when the duo had stopped playing, Mr. Darcy had successfully concealed his initial reaction from his sister.

For the rest of the evening, the conversation amongst the small party followed the normal rhythms of such gatherings. Sir Albert paid Miss Darcy some particular attention, inquiring about her musical education, but not an excessive amount, so that when they all retired for the night, it would seem to any outsider that nothing extraordinary had happened.


	6. Chapter 6

The curiosity that led Mrs. Reynolds to succumb to a night of eavesdropping had turned to wretched suspense by morning. Sir Albert had intuitively understood how to draw out Miss Darcy. He was either precisely suited to her or a seasoned charmer, and Mrs. Reynolds was unable to discern which one.

Mrs. Darcy was equally anxious to discuss Sir Albert and enlisted Mrs. Reynolds’ assistance in ascertaining Miss Darcy’s feelings. That morning’s housekeeping plans were pushed aside for more pressing concerns. Mrs. Reynolds hoped her face did not betray her as she listened to Mrs. Darcy recount the events she had seen with her own eyes. Together they entered Miss Darcy’s sitting room, where with sketchbook in hand, she sat staring dreamily out the window.

“You played very well last night, Georgiana,” said Mrs. Darcy, sitting down beside her.

“Oh, Lizzy, it was . . . he was. . .” The rush of emotions overwhelmed her. She could not find words for her feelings, until finally she whispered, “What did my brother say?”

“First try to tell me how _you_ feel. Do you like him?”

Miss Darcy lowered her eyes. “Yes.”

Mrs. Darcy smiled. “Good. We like him as well. And he likes you. He asked William’s permission to court you.”

Miss Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Did William agree?”

“Not yet. Sir Albert has made a good first impression on him, but he must first make inquiries to find out about his character. He is also a graduate of Cambridge, and they know some of the same people. You know William would do nothing less, especially where your happiness is concerned.”

Miss Darcy looked relieved. She had many fears regarding courtship; Mr. Wickham had severely shaken her trust of others and worse, of her own judgment. Yet nothing was more dreadful to her than the possibility of disappointing her brother again.

Mrs. Darcy continued, “If Sir Albert is truly a gentleman, then he will be able to court you. All you must do is wait.”

“Wait?!” cried Miss Georgiana. “But I can think of nothing else! What shall I do?”

“Do what you always have done, Miss Darcy,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Practice your music, read, and sketch. You met him only yesterday. Your life is not so very different from only one acquaintance.”

“What do you mean? Everything is different now!”

Mrs. Darcy kissed her, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, how I know how that feels!” She paused a moment to recollect herself, “Just try and be patient, and I promise, I will help you wait.”

Mrs. Darcy was true to her promise. She was a constant source of strength for Miss Georgiana since their first acquaintance. All her life, Miss Darcy had been taught that poise and fashion were the mark of good breeding, and it was a matter of anxiety for her to excel. She had grown so fearful of mistakes in etiquette that she rarely spoke in social gatherings. Some people mistook this as aloofness and pride, but from the moment they first met, Mrs. Darcy perceived it was mere shyness, and had spoken to the young lady encouragingly.

After the wedding, Miss Georgiana often listened with an astonishment bordering on alarm to Mrs. Darcy’s lively, sportive manner of talking to her brother, but in time, she began to comprehend that he appreciated his wife for it. If he could allow himself to be teased, then, she, too, need not be perfect nor fear her own mistakes.

The introduction of Sir Albert Harrington to their lives altered the sisters’ relationship further still. Most meaningful to Georgiana was when her sister told her about the months that had passed between her sudden departure from Derbyshire and her engagement to Mr. Darcy. She had believed that after leaving, she would never again see Mr. Darcy, and her pain had been acute. Miss Darcy heard all this with amazement, for she had some idea of the extent of her brother’s feelings during that time, and though he had never told her so, she knew he was himself insecure about whether he would be able to win the affection of the woman he admired. If the two people Miss Georgiana loved most in the world had endured their separation until its happy conclusion, she resolved to be patient through this period of inquiry.

Mr. Darcy at that time relented in the matter of sending Miss Darcy to Rosings. At first it had seemed that every advantage in it was for others; she would be company for their cousin, a courier for his wife, and perhaps even a healer in the breach between himself and Lady Catherine, however disinclined he was toward forgiving his aunt. But now he saw that there was novelty in the scheme which might distract Georgiana from the tender hopes she had begun to nurture, hopes which might very easily be disappointed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived for Miss Darcy a week before Easter. Mrs. Annesely and Cora joined them, the former to visit her relations in Kent, and the latter to serve Miss Darcy. Whether the opportunity to travel to Rosings was a privilege or a punishment was a topic much discussed amongst the servants, particularly on the night of their dance, which was being hosted at Bradwell.

“It is a shame she will miss it,” said Ellen while they were waiting for their wagon. Martha, who was standing with them, now looked particularly forlorn. Her probation far from over, she, too, would miss the dance. Nancy, who had been punished along with Martha, had remained in her room, sulking at the injustice of it.

“There will be others,” said Polly. “I should think it would be fun to travel.”

Constance laughed. “You say that only because you barely know Lady Catherine. Oh, the demands she used to make of us when she and her daughter stayed here! I hope her quarrel with the Darcys lasts for years!”

“There is no virtue in carrying on a quarrel even when you know you are in the right,” said Mrs. Reynolds. But her words were ignored, for the wagon arrived as she spoke them. The maids began to climb on, followed by the menservants, and then Joseph drove up with the smaller, more luxurious carriage reserved for Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Hammond, and Constance, who would be acting as chaperones. Joseph quickly alighted, and while another driver replaced him at the reins, he handed his mother into the carriage.

“Keep an eye on Timothy and Martha for me,” she whispered to him. “Do not leave them alone for a moment.” Joseph nodded, and as they rode away, Mrs. Reynolds watched as Martha followed Joseph into the house.

They arrived at Bradwell in merry spirits. The small ballroom was already crowded with dancers swinging and stomping to a lively Scottish reel. Those on the sidelines greeted their Pemberley friends with zeal, and soon almost everyone had a partner. Mrs. Reynolds took her place in the line of chaperones and extended her hand to Mrs. Johnson, the Bradwell housekeeper.

“You have fitted up the room delightfully.”

“I’m sorry. I cannot hear you over the music,” said Mrs. Johnson, and she hurried to the opposite side of the room without giving Mrs. Reynolds a chance to repeat herself. Mrs. Reynolds was a bit surprised though not offended. As Mrs. Johnson busied herself with the bowls of punch on the table, Mrs. Reynolds reasoned that hosting a dance could be very stressful. She did think, however, that if she were hostess, she would remember her own manners, no matter how harried she might feel.

Polly, meanwhile, had chosen to stay out of the first dance so that she could greet Mrs. Johnson with the politeness she felt due her former supervisor. Mrs. Johnson glanced at her summarily, recognized Lady Smalling’s cast-off silk dress, and with one disapproving glare, discouraged Polly from stepping forward any further. Confused by the repulse, Polly turned to a young Bradwell footman and maid, and smiling broadly, asked, “Do you at last have good news for us?”

“Yes,” answered the footman shortly, and without a further word, led the maid to the dance.

Now it was a matter of real exertion for Polly to greet more of her old Bradwell friends, and she was shunned by each of them in turn. Some looked at her stonily before flippantly turning away; others simply avoided her eyes. Lord Smalling’s valet whispered something to his dark-haired partner and pointed directly at Polly.

“I warned her not to wear that dress at Bradwell,” Constance said in Mrs. Reynolds’ ear.

In that instant, Mrs. Reynolds remembered Constance’s warning to Polly weeks before and understood the entire scene. The dark-haired girl was Lady Smalling’s new maid, and she had already felt her mistress’ censure many times, quite likely in the form of unfavorable comparisons, and her jealousy was roused. If this maid could not prove herself better than Polly in the performance of her duties, she would have to claim superiority in areas where Polly seemed weak, and maligning Polly would promote her cause. People change their opinions easily with enough repetition, and even the more loyal friends could be silenced under the threat of a few cutting, personal remarks.

While Polly struggled to regain her composure in the face of this affront, a wave of enthusiasm burst through the rest of the room as a troop of soldiers entered to join the dance. Mrs. Reynolds’ attention was caught as well, and she craned her neck in search of gold amidst the red coats.

“Where is the chaperone?” she asked Constance.

“Captain Everett at your service, ma’am,” came a deep voice from behind her. Its owner bowed to her. She briefly scrutinized his appearance; his uniform was brushed to perfection, his buttons shone, and his boots had not a trace of dirt. He was as meticulous in his person as in his dress; his hair was combed and pulled back neatly and his fingernails were trimmed evenly. He submitted to Mrs. Reynolds’ examination with nothing more than a knowing smile.

“There is no need for you to worry, madam. My lads will behave like perfect gentlemen. They know what awaits them if they do not.”

Mrs. Reynolds turned away with a shudder. She had heard stories of the punishments administered to misbehaving soldiers: public lashings, sometimes without clothes. Perhaps these deterrents were necessary for the discipline of some, but they were enough to prevent her from ever allowing her son to join the army, trustworthy as she knew him to be.

Mrs. Reynolds suddenly recalled Polly’s mortification, and looked over at her again to see how she was faring. She was unsure whether to be relieved or concerned as a handsome young soldier led a smiling Polly to the dance floor.

“Who is that one?” Mrs. Reynolds immediately asked of Captain Everett.

“Corporal Ames. Good lad. And she is one of yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Modest in dress and in manner,” he observed. “I daresay you command your company with as firm a hand as I do mine, Mrs. -? ”

“Reynolds. Housekeeper of Pemberley, sir.”

“Pemberley! Then you must know my commanding officer, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Mrs. Reynolds’ esteem for the captain was thus fully secured. “Indeed, I know him very well, sir.” And the two began to talk so agreeably of common acquaintance, of traveling and staying at home, of Kent and of Derbyshire, and with such spirit and flow as to draw Mrs. Reynolds’ attention away from the dancers almost entirely until a cry of “Oh!” turned every head in the room. Polly had fallen and her partner was helping her get to her feet. Mrs. Reynolds rushed to her side.

“Are you hurt?” she and the young soldier cried simultaneously.

“My knees hurt a little, but my wrist hurts terribly. I must have sprained it when I tried to stop my fall.”

“Here, let me help you,” Mrs. Reynolds gave Polly her arm for support and Corporal Ames released his own grip on her.

“Thank you,” Polly said to the soldier with an earnest parting look as Mrs. Reynolds led her to a chair. The Pemberley maids came from all sides of the room and surrounded her.

“That was deliberate! I witnessed it!” exclaimed Constance. “That dark-haired maid stood on the hem of your dress so you’d trip, the little shrew!”

Everyone looked at the back of Polly’s dress and saw that it indeed was torn. Mrs. Reynolds meanwhile gently prodded Polly’s wrist, and caused her to flinch and wail, “Oh! Oh! How will I be able to work tomorrow?”

Mrs. Reynolds spoke soothingly, “Do not worry yourself about that. I will manage it. Would you like to go home early? Edmund will drive you.”

“No, thank you, ma’am. Please do not oblige anyone to miss part of the dance on my account.” Polly looked around at her friends. “And you must enjoy yourselves also. I appreciate your concern, but you cannot do anything for me by sitting here.”

The girls protested; if their friend must sit out the dance, so would they. Mrs. Reynolds was pleased by their loyalty, but sensed that Polly’s real desire was to speak to her alone, so she urged them back to the dance floor. After they had gone, Polly’s eyes brimmed with tears as she said, “That valet dancing with her was once my friend. They were all my friends. How could they treat me this way?”

Mrs. Reynolds heaved a sigh. “Your successor controls them with a sharp tongue, I expect.”

“It is so petty!”

“Indeed. And you should not have to endure it. Do let Edmund bring you home.”

Polly shook her head and lowered her face. Mrs. Reynolds now ardently wished that Joseph were present. He would have escorted Polly without a moment’s regret.

Polly then looked up with unexpected fire and resolve. “No, I cannot allow them to intimidate me. Perhaps I will even dance again if someone asks me.”

Mrs. Reynolds admired her resiliency, but advised against her dancing again while injured. She knew this could be a severe disappointment for so young a girl, and determined to sit by her and engage her in cheerful conversation as long as need be. She could fulfill her chaperoning duties from where they sat, and Polly was in many ways a more desirable companion than the other housekeepers. She had not forgotten Joseph’s recent disclosure and realized that the girl beside her might someday become her daughter-in-law. She did not leave Polly’s side until Ellen joined them, giggling and chatting about one of her dance partners. That seemed to Mrs. Reynolds a conversation best shared amongst young girls, so she rejoined the other chaperones. She accepted a dance with Mr. Hammond as a matter of course, and was surprised to have Captain Everett as a partner afterward.

When that set had finished, Mrs. Reynolds looked over to check on Polly again, and saw that Corporal Ames had been talking with Polly and Ellen, and now rose and led Ellen to the next set. The dark-haired maid persisted in sending Polly jeering looks for the rest of the night, and at times Polly returned them with cold stares, and at others, purported to ignore her by engaging herself in conversation with Ellen and Corporal Ames. By the time the Pemberley staff was climbing back into the wagon, Mrs. Reynolds could only marvel at Polly’s serenity and concluded that her disappointment at Bradwell was far exceeded by her joy in returning to Joseph at Pemberley.


	7. Chapter 7

Under ordinary circumstances, the maids would share their impressions of a dance for days afterward, but this time, everyone considered Polly’s feelings and injury and refrained from discussing it. Mrs. Reynolds was glad of it on two accounts: for Polly’s sake and because Martha need not know that the other maids had danced with soldiers. Joseph’s report of her behavior during their punishment had been quite favorable, but Mrs. Reynolds still felt that the less said the better.

On the morning after the ball, Mrs. Reynolds sought Martha in her workplace behind the house to see if Joseph had been correct. She immediately commended herself for her foresight; Martha was standing with Timothy again. Both were on probation, and if they were misbehaving, both must be dismissed. She quickened her steps, but when she had gotten close enough to overhear them, it seemed that Martha was not so welcoming of Timothy’s attention.

“Give us a kiss, will ‘ya? L-rd knows, I’ve waited long enough for it.”

Martha ignored him, plunged her hands more deeply into her wash bucket and scrubbed with brisk movements.

“C’mon, love. Don’t be scared of that blind old hag. She doesn’t know half of what goes on around here. She can’t keep her spies on us every second of the day.”

He drew closer, and seized her so that she spun around to face him. But the force of his pull had been so strong that instead of a kiss, he received a good drenching from Martha’s wash bucket.

“You stupid, little -!” and he finished with an expletive that horrified Mrs. Reynolds.

“It were an accident!” cried Martha, cowering in terror. Timothy would surely have struck her next, and before Mrs. Reynolds had a chance to intervene, other servants were poking their heads out of the doors and windows to see the cause of the commotion. Laughter and jeering filled the air, mostly from other menservants, but Constance joined in, and above all the voices was Martha’s high-pitched twitter, giddy from relief. Mrs. Reynolds could only be grateful that the Darcys had remained indoors and were spared the shameful display.

Mr. Hammond, however, had heard everything, and running outside, shouted, "Dismissed! No character! Go inside and collect your belongings!"

“Good riddance!” called Constance from her window.

“Back to the kitchen, Constance!” bellowed Mrs. Reynolds. "Back to work, all of you!" Everyone hurried away.

Mrs. Reynolds turned to Martha, who was scrambling to pick up all the fallen laundry.

“No grass stains, ma’am,” she told Mrs. Reynolds nervously.

“I’ll go fetch more water,” and she ran off immediately, leaving Mrs. Reynolds with rather mixed feelings. From all she had seen, Martha had done nothing wrong. She really wanted to question Martha, to find out what had been between her and Timothy, and most of all, to hear why she had chosen to resist him this time.

“Why is she so altered? From what can it proceed? Polly’s influence could not work such a change as this in so short a time.”

But as she went over the scene in her mind, she concluded that perhaps simple fear of punishment accounted for the whole. It was perhaps the one difference between Martha and Timothy. Timothy had called her a “blind, old hag who doesn’t know half of what goes on.” Catching him in the fact must certainly disprove that, but she could feel no triumph, for his words had evoked too many new doubts. Of all things he might have chosen to say, he had called her “blind” and of course, “blind” was followed by “old.” If Timothy, crass and unintelligent as he was, had been perceptive enough to discover her secret, perhaps others had also.

“Stop this vanity, Hester!” she chided herself, and then was roused by the sight of Joseph entering the house, finished with his morning errands. Inevitably, he would have several shopkeepers’ notes for her.

She headed toward her workroom to receive them, but was detained several minutes by a question from Mr. Hammond as to whether Timothy should lose the wages owing him for the month of work. They decided that dismissal without a character was punishment enough. Timothy could never find a place in a great house again; he was sentenced either to the factories of London or to the army. When Mr. Hammond left her, she repeated Constance’s words in a low whisper, “Good riddance.”

She hoped never to hear of Timothy again, and was only too happy to turn her mind to something else. She reached her workroom, opened the door with all the freedom natural to her, and startled the room’s two inhabitants: Joseph and Polly, evidently engaged in earnest conversation. Had this led to no suspicion, the faces of both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would have told it all. Polly made a sudden move as if surreptitiously hiding something in her apron pocket, and Joseph hastily placed the shopkeepers’ notes in his mother’s hand and excused himself. Mrs. Reynolds could only guess at what she had interrupted, but to spare Polly any further embarrassment, she pretended she had noticed nothing and asked only, “How is your wrist now? Shall I send Ellen to help you?”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” said Polly, quick to return to work though her cheeks still retained a blush. “I am getting on quite well. The poultice you gave me helped immensely, and thank you for having Nancy bring up Mrs. Darcy’s tea. The tray would have been too heavy for me, I think.”

“And how was it attending to Mrs. Darcy?”

“She was very considerate and required little of me this morning.”

This did not surprise Mrs. Reynolds in the least. Like her husband, Mrs. Darcy regarded herself as the patron of those in her employ and was conscientious in seeing to their welfare. But Mrs. Reynolds must likewise concern herself with Mrs. Darcy’s welfare, and asked, “Did anyone else attend to her, then?”

“Yes, ma’am. Martha did.”

“Martha!”

“She was the first to volunteer, ma’am.”

This news vexed Mrs. Reynolds, but she saw no occasion to be harsh with Polly, and corrected her gently. “After the events of this morning, I must say you have improved the girl, much more so than I could have dreamed, and I am glad to hear she has enough good sense to show gratitude to you, but she is still not suited to attend Mrs. Darcy. If ever such a circumstance as this arises again - and it probably will not, since Cora is usually here - please send Nancy in your place.”

“I will, ma’am,” said Polly quietly, “but Martha is the best hairdresser amongst us.”

“Is she? How strange! I wonder how she learned. But it is of no consequence; this is not a matter of skills, but of character. A lady’s maid must have a certain refinement. Do you understand me? Mrs. Darcy is flexible and probably no harm was done. But in future, Polly, either yourself, Cora, or Nancy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Mrs. Reynolds left the room with one more point to discuss in her meeting with Mrs. Darcy. After inspecting the upstairs rooms, she entered Mrs. Darcy’s sitting room, and noticed, to her own surprise, that the mistress’ hairstyle was particularly becoming. Mrs. Reynolds wanted to ask Mrs. Darcy if Martha had pleased her, but Mrs. Darcy had other matters in mind.

“Ah, Mrs. Reynolds. We have much to discuss today. We are expecting a large party of guests in two days. We will need three guest rooms and also our guest nursery will at last come to use.”

“Will the Gardiners bring a nursemaid, too, madam?”

“It is not for the Gardiners. It is for Sir Albert Harrington, his mother, and his married sister with her husband and children.”

Mrs. Reynolds could not hold back a very broad smile. Mr. Darcy’s inquiries into Sir Albert’s character must have been very favorable.

Anticipating the question Mrs. Reynolds would not dare to ask, Mrs. Darcy said, “Miss Darcy will remain in Kent for a bit longer. Unfortunately, Mrs. Annesley has been called away to help in a family illness.”

“I am sorry to hear it, madam. Is it serious?”

“It seems so. We are uncertain whether Mrs. Annesley will be free to return to us. And Mr. Darcy feels she will be nearly impossible to replace. But let us think about more pleasant things. Sir Albert and his family will be leasing Chanticleer. We have invited them here until their new home is ready. Please speak to Mr. Olivierre about more Italian recipes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Darcy sighed. “It really is quite an honor; I only hope I am prepared for it. Perhaps Pemberley has hosted foreign nobility before, but I never have.”

Mrs. Reynolds was certain that if anyone had enough grace and charm to host an Italian Contessa, it was the mistress, and she gave her every reassurance that the entire staff would be at peak performance.

She addressed the staff right before their dinner, lined up formally in order of rank.

“By now you have all heard about Timothy’s dismissal. That is not why I have called you.” Her eyes rested on Martha, who stood at the end of the maids’ line, “I find no fault with any of you. I have an announcement of a very different nature. In two days, the Darcys will be honored with a visit from Italian nobility - a Contessa and her family. Never has it been more important for you to give a good impression. Men in livery: keep yourselves pressed and spotless at all time. Cleaning staff: stay as much out of sight as possible, but your work in the house should be evident. Pemberley must shine like a palace. I have always told you that in serving Pemberley, you are emissaries for the Darcys. With these guests - and I mean no exaggeration - you will also be representing England herself. We will show them the finest in British hospitality. Only your best effort can achieve this, and I expect the best from each one of you.”

The attentive faces before her filled her with confidence.

“Now, we may eat,” she told them, and they settled into their tables, whispering. Most of them had nobility before; the Earl of Matlock was the master’s own uncle. But a Contessa, they understood, was something more.

After grace, Polly ventured to ask, “Will they be traveling with their own servants, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“I should imagine not. They have fled the war in their own country.”

Mr. Olivierre startled everyone with some vehement exclamations in French.

“Oh, now you’ve roused him,” said Constance. Mr. Olivierre’s previous employers, an aristocratic French family whom he loved, had been killed in the war.

“They’re lucky to have escaped with their lives, and you talk of servants. Soldiers are _le dernier des hommes_ \- the worst of men. When they see gold, they kill for it.”

“But surely not all soldiers - ”said Polly shakily.

“Yes, all soldiers, you naive child. You have no idea what war does to people.”

Mr. Olivierre’s violence took Polly aback, and Joseph came to her aid by interjecting some of his own views. He soon cooled Mr. Olivierre’s heatedness into a political debate which everyone else chose to ignore. They returned to their discussion of the Darcys’ new guests.

“Will I be attending the Contessa, Mrs. Reynolds?” asked Polly, “Does she speak English?”

“I daresay she does. She was married to an Englishman.”

“What exactly is a Contessa? Is it more than a Duchess?” asked Nancy.

“To be honest, I do not know. But anyway, that is none of our concern. As I said, all we must think of is doing our very best.”

So in the subsequent days, the Pemberley staff scrubbed and polished every nook and corner of the house under Mrs. Reynolds’ discerning eye. Nancy was relieved of her stillroom duties to be able to assist in preparing the guest rooms. Mr. Hammond and the footmen gave the Darcys’ entire collection of plate and silver a thorough cleaning. And Martha, with some help from Polly, laundered dozens of linens. But there was one item whose care Mrs. Reynolds trusted only to herself: a lace tablecloth she had made as a gift for Lady Anne twelve years prior. The Darcy family used it only on holidays or for very special occasions.

It was therefore with great pride that Mrs. Reynolds oversaw the table setting for the Darcys’ honored guests, and greater still when she, Mr. Olivierre, and Mr. Hammond were called to the dining room to receive the Contessa’s personal thanks. It was the closest glimpse Mrs. Reynolds had had of the Contessa and her family, and she was as fascinated as the young maids. As Mrs. Reynolds expected, the entire family was dark-skinned, but there was much that surprised her. Mrs. Reynolds had imagined the Contessa’s figure as tall and imposing, much like Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s, but in reality she was small and frail, though her delicate features indicated that she had once been extraordinarily beautiful. Her daughter bore little resemblance to her; she was buxom with a pleasant demeanor, but not nearly as handsome. The daughter’s husband wore a look of bored indolence, much like that of Mr. Darcy’s previous guest Mr. Hurst. And Sir Albert, who had already won Mrs. Reynolds’ regard, seemed softer and more gentlemanlike than ever as he sat beside and attended his elderly mother.

The Contessa employed him as a translator to convey her message to them: “In these few months that we are back in this country, we have not been treated with this degree of hospitality anywhere. It is a little taste of home.” She grew tearful when she finished, and her son and daughter calmed her.

“Truly, your grace, the honor is ours,” said Mrs. Darcy.

The Contessa looked up and smiled at her hostess. Evidently, though she would not speak English, she could comprehend it perfectly.

Mr. Hammond and Mr. Olivierre bowed and Mrs. Reynolds curtsied, and the three withdrew. In the servants’ hall, they congratulated each other with a round of warm handshakes. Mrs. Reynolds imparted the Contessa’s words to the rest of the staff. She regarded the Contessa’s praise amongst the highest compliments she had ever received in her lifetime and told the staff that each them had a due share in it. Had Mrs. Reynolds been formed for boasting, she would have gone to Lambton the next day to tell Mrs. Quinn, but as it was, she cherished the moment privately. She could imagine only a few things that could make her happiness complete: the marriage of Miss Georgiana to Sir Albert, Joseph's acceptance to university, his subsequent return to Pemberley as its steward, and his marriage to the worthy young Polly.


	8. Chapter 8

The Contessa and her family had been at Pemberley a week when Mrs. Darcy informed Mrs. Reynolds of Miss Georgiana’s impending return from Rosings. The news was given and shared with a mixture of joyous hope and mild anxiety, for both women knew that as much as Miss Georgiana wished to be reacquainted with Sir Albert, her shy manners would present some difficulty in their initial encounter.

Mrs. Reynolds trusted the Darcys to devise some way of easing Miss Georgiana into a first meeting, and in fact, they planned her arrival for a morning on which the Harringtons had gone to Chanticleer to see its progress. Mrs. Reynolds herself was upstairs that morning and only learned of her arrival by the booming voice of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who called out, “Where is Mrs. Reynolds? You must meet her; I have known her since I was a boy!”

He climbed the stairs in search of her, followed by a young lady in fine clothing.

“Mrs. Reynolds!” he cried as she curtsied to him. “What a pleasure to see you! Let me present my lovely fiancé, Miss Amanda Griffith.”

Mrs. Reynolds shook hands with Miss Griffith. She looked about five-and-twenty, not handsome, but in person and address, most truly the lady.

“It is wonderful news, sir! May you have many happy years together.” And just from the pride with which the Colonel introduced his young lady, and the shy but fond glances the two exchanged in those few moments in which Mrs. Reynolds saw them together, she was assured that they would.

Miss Darcy came up the stairs after them. After they had gone away, she embraced Mrs. Reynolds and exclaimed, “Oh, I am so happy for them! They are perfectly suited! They are a very different sort of couple than my brother and Elizabeth, but anyone can see they are just as much in love!”

“My, my,” thought Mrs. Reynolds. “She is observing how couples interact. That is a promising sign.” Aloud she asked, “Did you enjoy your visit to Kent, Miss?”

“Much of it, yes, especially visiting the Griffiths. Richard took me quite frequently. But we had sad news from Mrs. Annesley; she cannot return as my companion; she will be nursing her sister.”

“I am sure you are sorry to lose her, Miss.”

“I am. But I do understand.” Miss Darcy removed a note from her reticule. “She has given you directions for sending her belongings.” Mrs. Reynolds opened the note, found the writing too small for her, and nodded solemnly as she resolved to give it to Cora. Cora had always attended Mrs. Annesley, and she was the logical choice to pack Mrs. Annesley’s belongings.

Looking up at Miss Darcy, she said, “It is a pleasure to have you back, Miss. The tuner was in for your instrument just last week. Does it please you to try it now?”

Miss Darcy’s eyes lit up, and Mrs. Reynolds followed her to her sitting room. She lifted up the piano cover and took a music book from the top of the neat stack Mrs. Reynolds had set out for her.

“What’s this?” said Miss Darcy, almost in a whisper. “I never owned this piece before.”

“I found it right here in this room, Miss,” said Mrs. Reynolds, who could not distinguish one music book from another. As Miss Darcy pored over the book, an idea as to its source dawned on both simultaneously. “Very sly of him,” thought Mrs. Reynolds, and she watched Miss Darcy to see how she bore the thought of Sir Albert entering her sitting room. Far from considering it an intrusion, Miss Darcy sat down and played from her new music book enthusiastically. Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and left her.

Cora, meanwhile, had gone up to Miss Darcy’s dressing room and was diligently unpacking her mistress’ clothing.

“Good work, Cora,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Miss Darcy enjoyed herself in Kent, which means that you served her well there.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“And did you enjoy Kent?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Cora in such a saddened tone that Mrs. Reynolds knew she meant precisely the opposite. She had some idea of the conditions for Rosings servants; Lady Catherine had on many occasions advised her younger sister that she need not provide so much wood and food for the Pemberley servants. Mrs. Reynolds was rather sorry Cora had been obliged to make the trip and decided to lighten her workload to whatever degree she could. She would assign another maid to pack Mrs. Annesley’s belongings.

At that moment, Nancy entered the room with a small basket full of vials of aromatic waters. She was distributing them to the many ladies now occupying the house.

“Good,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Leave rose water for Miss Darcy - she has her mother’s tastes - the lavender and mint blend for Mrs. Darcy, and several choices each for the Contessa and her daughter.

“Will that be all, ma’am?” asked Nancy.

“No. Miss Darcy’s governess will not be returning to Pemberley. Here are her instructions for packing and sending her belongings. After you have finished, tell me, and Ellen will clean and close her apartment.”

Without even a question about why Mrs. Annesley was leaving, Nancy curtsied and left. Mrs. Reynolds was pleased. Nancy’s sense of secrecy proved that she was the right choice as a substitute ladies’ maid. Mrs. Reynolds then turned to Cora.

“You may have heard that the Darcys have guests, a noble Italian family. Nancy has been attending Sin-yor-a So-fi-a, the Contessa’s daughter, in your absence. I had planned to assign her to you, but Nancy has been doing well, so for now, you need only attend Miss Darcy.” For a fleeting moment, Mrs. Reynolds considered adding, “And dress her with more than your usual care,” but the request seemed to reveal more than it should.

Joseph interrupted them. “Mr. Darcy calls you to his study, Mother.”

“Oh, my! The music must have drowned out the bell!” she cried and raced down the stairs in as dignified a manner as she could. “Excuse me, sir,” she apologized on entering the study.

Mr. Darcy, who had been standing at the window, turned toward her with a serious gaze.

“Close the door,” he said quietly, and when she had done so, he said, “The Colonel and I have agreed to give our consent for Sir Albert to court Miss Darcy. He may escort her through the park tomorrow in the afternoon. However, I must ask you to chaperone them; Mrs. Darcy will be with her doctor then and cannot, and I promised to” - he caught himself - “I promised the steward to go through his accounts.”

Mrs. Reynolds was honored that Mr. Darcy trusted her with something of such importance. She was also impressed at Mrs. Darcy for having been able to persuade her husband to use a chaperone other than himself, but on reflection, she decided that it was Mr. Darcy who deserved the most credit of all. He had the most challenging task among them; he had to overcome his natural protectiveness of Miss Georgiana to allow her feelings to develop without hindrance.

Thus, the next afternoon, Mrs. Reynolds accompanied Miss Darcy and her suitor around the grounds. The weeks of Miss Darcy’s absence made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. Miss Darcy sighed at the familiar beauty of her surroundings; Sir Albert likewise observed them with his keen sense of picturesque. He was the first to break the silence.

“I have always loved the English countryside, and these grounds are amongst the most beautiful I have ever seen. I believe I saw your sketch taken from this very view. Now that I see the original, I must say, it was very well done.”

“Thank you,” replied Miss Darcy, blushing a little, “but truly, I do not think my drawings are exceptional.”

“You prefer music, then, as do I. I have an eye for art, but not the skill for it. You have quite an impressive collection of instruments all to yourself.”

“Oh, no,” said Miss Darcy, “My sister does play, though rarely. She would play very well if she practiced more, but I suppose married women seldom have the time.”

“For married women who learned to play in the pursuit of a fashionable marriage, that is probably true. Once they have secured themselves a husband, that is the end of their playing, but I doubt your sister was one of those. I daresay she plays just as frequently as she ever did, whenever it amuses her, or now, when it gives your brother pleasure.”

Miss Darcy smiled at this, for it was a very accurate description, and with this encouragement he went on, “But there are other women who find in music a way of expressing themselves more clearly and more deeply than speech. A woman such as that would never abandon her music, married or unmarried, and an attentive husband would see to it that she has time to practice.”

He looked at her intently and she immediately turned so that her bonnet covered her face. Mrs. Reynolds knew she was pleased and flattered, but even more embarrassed. Sir Albert realized it too, and went on in a lighter tone, “That is why I will always play, even in this country where they have the strange idea that a man who plays music must be a rake, or if he has a beard, he must have something to hide.” He rubbed his own beard and chuckled as he finished. As Miss Darcy steadfastly kept her gaze on the ground, he looked to Mrs. Reynolds for reaction.

“If you have something to hide,” thought Mrs. Reynolds, “The Darcys will find it out.” But somehow, for all his foreign ways and uncustomary directness toward Miss Darcy, she trusted him.

“The more I see of the world, the more I choose to live on my own terms. It seems your brother and sister do the same. Have you been to the Continent, Miss Darcy? I daresay you would love Venice. The streets sing with music.”

“Only once,” said she, looking up, “when I was very young. We went as a family when my parents were alive.” She lowered her face again, and Mrs. Reynolds understood what it meant. The voyage must have constituted her last happy memories of her mother. Lady Anne had taken ill on the journey home and passed away a few months later.

Observing the sudden alteration in her mood, Sir Albert replied in a gentle tone, “I lost my father at a young age as well. I was twelve. My family lived in England all the years my father was alive, but after that, the estate was sold and my mother took us back to Venice. I returned for university.” Then he sighed. “And now we are back again, in the safety of this good land. Yet in spite of it all, my mother still yearns for her country.”

“So you intend to return someday?” ventured Miss Darcy, sounding slightly dismayed. Sir Albert rightly took this as a sign of her growing admiration.

“Yes, someday,” he repeated with a smile, “but only when I am absolutely certain of our safety there. But let us not speak of what I have left behind. I trust you saw the music books?”

“Yes . . .um . . . thank you,” she stammered, for the more pleased she was, the more fluttered she became. “Beethoven is my favorite.”

“So you told me before your journey to Kent. And if I recall correctly, another favorite is Bach, particularly the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto.”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, with less shyness, “I love the harpsichord solo with those thirty-second notes spinning up and down the scale!”

“Ah, a challenge!”

“You can play it?”

“I can try. I believe I saw a harpsichord in that fine house of yours.”

Mrs. Reynolds escorted them back to the house, and Miss Darcy found a moment to whisper to her, “You do not think he is anything like Mr. Wickham, do you?”

“No, Miss. He seems a perfect gentleman.”

She told Mr. Darcy precisely that after Mrs. Darcy relieved her as chaperone.

“Indeed, he seems like one,” said Mr. Darcy evenly.


	9. Chapter 9

The master maintained his caution as the courtship progressed, but after a week of the pair walking out on a daily basis, the servants gave themselves free rein to speculate.

“It will be a summer wedding, I am sure,” said Ellen wistfully.

“And that will make up for our missing the master’s,” said Nancy.

“You are getting a bit ahead of yourselves,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“Indeed,” agreed Constance. “You cannot trust these foreigners. I suspect he is trifling with her.”

“Oh, you only say that because you don’t like all this foreign cooking,” said Bridget.

“No, I don’t like it. When are they leaving, anyway?”

“I do not know,” said Mrs. Reynolds, “but in any case, Chanticleer is close enough that the Contessa and her family will probably visit here frequently.”

“To see Miss Darcy, of course,” said Martha.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at her sharply, and the conversation ended. She was in fact delighted for Miss Darcy, but this subject, to her mind, called for the utmost reserve.

Mrs. Reynolds learned of the departure of their guests at her meeting with the mistress the very next day. The Contessa’s daughter Signora Sofia was present, frowning as though displeased, which Mrs. Reynolds instantly understood to mean that the lady had some grievance to report.

“Is there something wrong, madam?”

“Indeed!” said Signoria Sofia, “Up until now, my family and I were utterly grateful for the fine service you and your staff have shown us. But something inexcusable has occurred. I have misplaced a pair of gold earrings and a matching bracelet, extremely valuable, and I must have them returned or replaced.” Her eyes rested on Mrs. Darcy as a reminder of who would bear the cost of the loss.

“I have assured the Signora of the upright character of every one of our maids, as I am sure you also will,” said Mrs. Darcy. “Perhaps there is some plausible explanation for this, but I must ask you to search their quarters.”

“Yes, madam. I will do so during the course of the day.”

“Thank you,” said Signora Sofia coldly, “because we intend to leave tomorrow night, and I do not wish to part on such unpleasant terms.” She looked again at Mrs. Darcy and added in a softer tone, “I should be very sorry to lose your friendship over such a thing as this.”

Hearing what was at stake, and feeling the urgency especially for Miss Georgiana, Mrs. Reynolds curtsied deeply and said, “I will search their quarters as soon as possible, madam, but if I may add, like my mistress, I too vouch for all the maids,” but as she hurried out, she thought to herself, “All perhaps but one, and _she_ has been carefully kept near the wash lines.”

Although Mrs. Reynolds intended to make the search immediately after her usual inspection of the house, with so many rooms in use, it took quite some time, and she was slowed by her own deliberations. She was certain that she could account for every moment of Martha’s schedule and could not imagine how or when Martha could have gotten into the guest wing. Ellen, of course, was there most frequently, but she had worked at Pemberley for years, and no complaint had ever arisen before. The thief had to have been someone new to the staff, which meant Martha.

Then a discomforting idea dawned on her. Polly was as new as Martha, and she had been attending the Contessa. It would have been easy for her to take something if she chose. And the Bradwell housekeeper had never given Polly a character. Mrs. Reynolds had always believed that was because of Polly’s abrupt decision to leave Bradwell, and because of some jealous rivalry borne against Pemberley, but now Mrs. Reynolds could not stop herself from wondering if there had been something more.

“No, I do not suspect Polly!” she told herself. “Mrs. Darcy is fully satisfied with her and Joseph loves her. We could not _all_ be deceived.”

She then began to doubt Signora Sofia. Perhaps the entire story was an invention, and the missing jewelry never existed. Perhaps it was some devious scheme to get some of the Darcys’ money. She thought of Constance’s oft repeated words: “You cannot trust these foreigners.” Everyone knew that nobility sometimes lost fortunes, and these had just fled a war. Perhaps Sir Albert’s interest in Miss Georgiana was as mercenary as George Wickham’s.

“Neither can be right,” she thought, dismissing the ideas which would cause so much pain to her own dear ones. “But how did Martha do it?”

While thus preoccupied, she was summoned to the Darcys’ presence a second time.

“We have called you for several reasons,” said Mr. Darcy in the formal tone he always adopted when something perturbed him. Mrs. Darcy’s expression was likewise solemn, even more than it had been earlier. Mrs. Reynolds grew anxious and prepared herself to hear more unexpected and dreadful news.

Mr. Darcy continued, “First is to inform you of another guest. Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter will be coming next week.”

Mrs. Reynolds allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. “So that is the cause of all this gravity,” thought she, grateful it was nothing worse. The young couple had probably just had their very first quarrel, remarkable in itself as they had been married above five months.

The whole matter was easy for Mrs. Reynolds to envision. Mr. Darcy must have insisted that his wife needed rest between guests, and Mrs. Darcy would have assured him that she felt well enough and that they should seize any peace-offering made. Mr. Darcy would then state that his aunt had no such peaceful intentions; she more likely wished a chance to see for herself how poorly the new mistress of Pemberley got on. Lady Catherine had ample sources of information, and upon hearing of the Contessa and Sir Albert, she would feel compelled to make the journey and give her guidance on proper hospitality. None of this would surprise Mrs. Darcy. She would declare herself equal to the challenge, and Mr. Darcy would concede to her though he would to nobody else in the world.

“I will do my best to make everyone comfortable, sir. Will they be bringing their own servants?”

“One footman, Miss de Bourgh’s companion Mrs. Jenkinson, and two maids.”

Mrs. Reynolds nodded and was pleased for Cora’s sake. No guest at Pemberley, not even Miss Bingley, needed as much attention from the servants as Miss Anne de Bourgh. Lady Catherine, demanding and fastidious in general, was formidable when it came to her daughter’s care. Her ladyship could quickly reduce timid Cora to tears.

“We have also received a letter from Mrs. Annesley,” said Mr. Darcy.

“Oh, I am sorry, sir,” said Mrs. Reynolds, thinking that this was the true source of their solemnity.

“No, thank Heaven, her news is not of _that_ nature,” said Mr. Darcy. “Her sister’s health is slowly improving."

“She writes to say that not all of her possessions were returned to her,” said Mrs. Darcy. “Have you searched the maids’ quarters yet?”

“Pardon me, madam, there was so much to do this morning . ..”

“It is quite all right. Until now, I did not doubt of any of our maids, either.”

Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and said, “Indeed this is very distressing, and I have been considering it all morning. Whoever did it had to have access to the personal effects of both Signora Sofia and Mrs. Annesley and I cannot think who - ” and then a shocking thought suddenly struck her. It was Nancy who had packed Mrs. Annesley’s belongings, and Nancy who had attended Signora Sofia. But Nancy had given Pemberley years of excellent service. Mrs. Reynolds could not believe her loyal stillroom maid was a thief. “Oh, my!” she cried, without thinking, and then recollecting herself, curtsied again, and said, “Excuse me. I will search the maids’ quarters immediately.”

She rushed to the attic room in which the maids slept, went to the bureau which they shared, and began emptying drawers and tossing their contents with frenetic energy. She found nothing suspicious in Nancy’s drawer, and went on to the drawer above it, which was Polly’s. Here she did find something, a stack of letters bundled together with string. Squinting, she read as far as “My dearest Polly,” and put the letters away. There was nothing suspicious in that. She remembered the very day she had caught Joseph giving Polly such a letter. She searched through Cora’s, Ellen’s, and Bridget’s, none of which contained anything telling. At the bottom was Martha’s.

“Now I’ve found you out,” said Mrs. Reynolds, and she pulled out a stack of papers similar to Polly’s, but the writing on them was rather like a child scrawling out his lessons. She was certain Martha had stolen the papers and continued to rummage through her drawer, but found no piece of missing jewelry.

Her fury rising, she began to turn over the beds, but found nothing there. She searched through the logs on the woodpile, and when she had reached the bottom, she heaved a desperate sigh and looked around at the chaos she had just created. She wrung her blackened hands and turning back to pile the wood again, she noticed a large hole in the corner wall where the woodpile usually stood. She knelt on the ground, reached her hand in, and felt a long opening. Inside it were many small objects, and slowly, she pulled out each one: a pair of gold earrings, a gold bracelet, an onyx breastpin, a pair of fur-lined gloves, an necklace with a large amethyst pendant, many vials of aromatic waters, candlesticks, and a large stash of tea and sugar.

Mrs. Reynolds was appalled. There was enough to send the culprit beyond the seas if the Darcys so chose. Worse still, many of the items came from the storage rooms to which she had so trustingly given Nancy a key. Could Nancy have pilfered all this under her own eyes? But Martha also worked near the storage rooms, Mrs. Reynolds reminded herself. This was a lucky recollection - it saved her from something like self-blame.

The disturbance of her spirits was by then very great, but she wanted to at least appear composed when she confronted the girls. She quickly straightened up the woodpile, leaving the hiding hole uncovered, remade the beds, and laid out all the items she had found. She called in the maids and watched their reactions. All seemed perplexed, both by the items on the bureau and the hole in the wall. Only Martha showed some signs of shame at having her writing paper on display.

Mrs. Reynolds turned on Martha first. “Well, what have you to say? Do you recognize any of these things?”

“Yes, ma’am. The writing paper, ma’am,” she said in a small voice.

“And from where did you get it?”

Martha looked down at her hands. “It were a present, ma’am.”

“A present from whom? Your friend, Timothy? We already know he was a thief.”

“Timothy weren’t my friend, ma’am.”

“It seems you are rather fickle. You were more than friendly to him when he was here.”

Martha raised her face to Mrs. Reynolds with a look in her eyes that spoke brazenness and defiance. The disguise of submissiveness she had been putting on in recent weeks was gone. “Timothy were never my friend! I’m glad he got the sack! He were Nancy’s friend, or her partner, anyway. She’s been nicking bits of the sweet waters a little at a time so you’d never see anything was missing. He were helping, but _she’s_ the one what’s been runnin’ it all.”

“This is an outrage!” cried Nancy. “Mrs. Reynolds, surely you cannot believe her lies!”

“We’ll see if she’s lying. Martha, how do you know all this?”

“I saw how it was on the day we made the soap. She told me your eyes was so bad you’d never notice if she nicked some of the sweet waters. Then she went into the back, stole the wine, and told you she was chasing out squirrels. Timothy hid the wine in the mens’ quarters for her.”

“If you saw all this, why didn’t you tell me immediately?” roared Mrs. Reynolds.

Martha looked down and mumbled, “I couldn’t risk it, ma’am. You put me on probation because you thought I was flirting with Timothy. But I weren’t, though, it was just part of her plan. If you was angry with me and him, you wouldn’t bother with her.”

“Rubbish!” cried Nancy. “You’re trying to pin your own guilt on me! Mrs. Reynolds, you cannot listen to the likes of _her_!”

Indeed, Mrs. Reynolds wished to discredit Martha entirely, but when she weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality, the explanation seemed more and more plausible. The pile before them was amassed by a methodical thief. It did not seem the work of impulsive Martha. And Mrs. Reynolds had given Nancy freedoms in the house which she had never allowed Martha. Her own preferences and prejudices had helped along the scheme.

“How despicably I have acted!” she thought. “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! How could I be so wretchedly blind?”

She wanted nothing more than to hide her face in her hands and cry for her mortifying errors, but the young, anxious faces surrounding her still relied on her to be their arbiter of justice.

In a subdued voice she asked, “Cora, can you identify any of these?”

“I have never seen the gold jewelry, but the breastpin and gloves belong to Mrs. Annesley, and the amethyst necklace was a gift from Miss Bingley to Miss Darcy. She didn’t care for it, and gave it to me. When it disappeared, I simply assumed I lost it. I certainly never suspected . . .” and she glanced at Nancy reproachfully.

“And when did you misplace it?” asked Mrs. Reynolds.

“Last year, months before Mr. Darcy married.”

The implication of her words was clear to all of them. The necklace had gone missing months before Martha joined the staff.

“Pack up your belongings, Nancy, and only your belongings.”

Nancy burst into tears, loudly grieving over the terrible injustice done to her. Each wail pierced Mrs. Reynolds’ heart. She had invested so many years training Nancy, working alongside her with genuine affection. Now she was left with betrayal, and worse, the feeling that she was to blame. She considered her treatment of Martha, too, and turned to her suddenly and asked,

“Did you drench Timothy deliberately?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And who gave you the writing paper?”

Martha glanced at Polly, who nodded at her. “Joseph, ma’am.”

For a brief moment, Mrs. Reynolds was speechless from surprise. In a day of shocking discoveries, this one might well have surpassed them all. But whatever her own feelings, the matter of the theft was more pressing, so keeping her voice as calm as she could, said simply, “I see,” and led Nancy away to face the Darcys.


	10. Chapter 10

Nancy’s dismissal was a shock to everyone at Pemberley, but it shook Mrs. Reynolds to her core. Never in her life had she known such self-doubt. She went about her tasks in a state of numbness and detachment. She gave the house as much attention as ever, but not with the same joy. And to make matters worse, she was very soon to face the scrutinizing eye of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and fully intended that she, rather than Mrs. Darcy, should bear the brunt of her ladyship’s criticism. She was determined to make herself into Mrs. Darcy’s shield. To this end, she insured that she, and no other servant, would directly interact with her ladyship, and it was she who announced Lady Catherine’s arrival to the Darcy's. Her ladyship entered with an air more than usually ungracious, made no other reply to Mrs. Darcy’s salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down with a cold observation to her nephew that at least he had shown the good sense to keep the furnishings his mother preferred.

With so promising a beginning, Mrs. Reynolds asked boldly, “Shall I show your ladyship to the room?”

Lady Catherine declined; she and her daughter would settle themselves in later, so Mrs. Reynolds instead showed the Rosings maids to the beds they would occupy, and instructed them in all they needed to know about the house. This took her no more than half an hour, and she was again summoned to the salon. Mrs. Reynolds knew not what had passed in her absence, but Lady Catherine was suddenly eager to be shown to her room.

Mrs. Reynolds led her above stairs to the room recently vacated by the Contessa, the very same Lady Catherine generally used on her visits to Pemberley. Like the rooms downstairs, it was fitted up as Lady Anne had directed in her lifetime, the furniture maintained so that it looked as new as ever.

“My late sister always praised you as an invaluable and loyal servant,” said Lady Catherine. “It must sicken you as much as it does me to see her dearest wish so crassly disregarded.”

Mrs. Reynolds knew she was not in a position to openly contradict Lady Catherine. “I am gratified to hear that Lady Anne spoke so highly of me, madam.”

“I see that the public rooms are unchanged. What has she done with my sister’s chambers? Has she ordered a new bed? How wide?”

“Madam?” said Mrs. Reynolds, blushing deeply. Lady Catherine may have considered herself entitled to know all her nephew’s dearest concerns, but Mrs. Reynolds would not answer such a question. She searched her mind for a neutral reply that would redirect Lady Catherine’s inquiries. “The most significant change to the upper rooms is that one of the guest rooms has been turned into an additional nursery.”

“How unorthodox! If her guests’ children are so wild that they require their own nursery, they should be left at home. My Anne never required such a thing.”

“No, madam,” agreed Mrs. Reynolds. Even as a child, phlegmatic Miss de Bourgh never deigned to play with her cousins.

“She is sister to Wickham’s son. Has he been here?”

“Heaven forbid!” cried Mrs. Reynolds.

Lady Catherine eyed her narrowly. “He must have caused some disgrace amongst your maids that you react with such vehemence. Until this marriage, I would have faulted you for your lack of vigilance, but now I have learned that all the sensible instruction in the world cannot stop a fool from believing himself in love. And now I am to understand that Georgiana is being courted by a foreigner?”

“He is half-English, madam.”

“And descended from nobility on both sides. Perhaps Darcy is kinder to Georgiana than he is to himself. Colonel Fitzwilliam speaks highly of him, but I will judge for myself. If it truly is an advantageous match, I am the logical choice to represent the family. I understand they will dine here tomorrow night.”

Seizing on an opportunity to recommend the Darcys to her ladyship, Mrs. Reynolds said, “I daresay the master and mistress knew you wished to meet the Harringtons as soon as possible.”

“Indeed,” the lady replied coldly, unwilling to acknowledge that the Darcys could do anything to please her. She instead occupied herself by searching through her reticule, pulled some notes out it, and handed them to Mrs. Reynolds. “These are recipes for various tonics for my daughter. Have your stillroom girl brew them; our maid will administer them. That will be all.”

Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and left. She would not have believed it possible, but the interview ended worse than it began. Since Nancy’s dismissal, she had distributed some of the stillroom duties amongst the staff, but had taken on the bulk of them herself. Now she would have to brew the recipes which she could barely read. She sighed and decided she would have to rely on her experience alone.

The first day of Lady Catherine’s visit to Pemberley passed without incident. The Contessa and Sir Albert came to dine as planned, and Mr. Hammond informed her that it had gone quite well, given the family tensions.

“The Contessa was ingenious,” said Mr. Hammond, laughing. “She sized up Lady Catherine and then feigned complete ignorance of English for the rest of the evening. Poor Sir Albert had to translate for a while, but it got too much, even with Lady Catherine’s determination to be heard. There were moments in which I thought the mistress could barely keep her countenance. But she did. She wants to mend the breach once and for all. Oh, but that Contessa! Who would have thought it?” And Mr. Hammond chuckled some more.

Mrs. Reynolds smiled weakly. She was in no mood for mirth. She wanted only a quiet evening, and was grateful to find Constance taking tea alone. Of all the female servants, Constance was closest to her in age and rank. They had served together for so many years that they were as familiar as family members and had grown to love each other despite those qualities which each perceived as faults in the other.

“Where are the girls?” asked Mrs. Reynolds.

“Dressing each other’s hair with those fashion magazines Miss Bingley left behind.”

Mrs. Reynolds sat down.

“I hear Nancy has gone to work for Mrs. Quinn,” said Constance, pouring the tea.

It still pained Mrs. Reynolds to speak of Nancy. “Perhaps I should warn Mrs. Quinn,” she said somberly.

“Really, Hester, do you think she’ll heed _you_? She’ll assume you’ll say anything just to keep your stillroom recipes at Pemberley. Let Quinn have her. They deserve each other.”

“But if something goes missing at the inn, then it will have been my responsibility for not warning her.”

“Tosh!” said Constance. “Martha knew at least some of what Nancy was doing. Is _she_ guilty then?”

Without intending it, Constance had dealt Mrs. Reynolds the worst blow yet. Martha might have approached her with what she knew, if only she had drawn the girl close instead of distancing her. If she had not bred so much distrust, Nancy might have been caught much earlier. But Mrs. Reynolds said none of this. She simply sipped at her tea.

“If it means so much to you, _I_ will warn Quinn. It will look perfectly natural coming from me. Everyone knows that I am a wealth of information.” And Constance laughed heartily at her own joke. Mrs. Reynolds remained silent.

“Stop blaming yourself,” continued Constance. “She was a devious girl. If she could get past my prying eyes, she could get past anything.” Constance laughed louder this time, and still getting no reaction from Mrs. Reynolds, said, “If you could learn to laugh at yourself, you’d be much happier, you know. Allow yourself room for human error.”

“My errors have cost Pemberley.”

“Argue if you will, but you’d do better to forgive yourself.”

Mrs. Reynolds knew Constance was right, but that did not make anything easier. The material loss to Pemberley disturbed her, for she had no doubt that Nancy had taken more than was found, but that was nothing in comparison to the knowledge that her poor judgment had failed the Darcys and she had no means of correcting the damage.

The only thing in her power to correct was her treatment of Martha, for which she was also deeply ashamed. Perhaps Martha, lowly Martha, was far greater than she. She had endured such unjust censure for so many months, and all the while had been secretly educating herself, by her own choice. When Mrs. Reynolds had first heard of it, she assumed that Joseph, in his love for Polly and his interest in education, joined his beloved in the cause of bettering Martha, but Joseph and Polly assured her that it had been Martha’s idea. Mrs. Reynolds could not fathom her motivation. It must be more than fear of losing her place.

Mrs. Reynolds nodded and considered Constance. Without intent to gossip, and wanting only to know information pertinent to managing her staff, she asked, “Did Martha favor Timothy?”

“Perhaps when she first came. She seemed a right young fool, then, and probably liked anyone who showed her some attention.”

There was some comfort in that. It meant that her judgment in appointing Polly as a friend to Martha had been sound.

Constance, meanwhile, seizing on what seemed a sanctioned invitation to gossip, said, “If you ask me, Martha set her cap elsewhere quite a while ago.”

Mrs. Reynolds sat upright and asked, “Has she behaved herself around the young man?”

“Oh, yes,” said Constance grinning, “She has chosen wisely this time.”

That was all Mrs. Reynolds needed to hear. Further discussion, to her sensibilities, would have been idle gossip, so she finished her tea, washed out her cup, and retired to her quarters. She slept more soundly that night than she had in a week.

The next morning Polly met her in a great deal of alarm.

“Mrs. Darcy is very ill!” she cried.

“Find Mr. Darcy in his study and tell him. Then, make a stronger brew of tea with plenty of ginger.” Without allowing herself to get swept up in panic, she turned and headed toward Mrs. Darcy’s chambers herself. Mrs. Darcy was still at a stage when it might be nothing more serious than a particularly difficult morning. She sighed as she thought how much she needed a trained stillroom maid.

At the top of the stairs, she heard Lady Catherine scolding someone, so she quickened her step, only to find that the recipient of the scolding was a very pale and peaked Mrs. Darcy.

“I am appalled at your lack of consideration! Your guests are ill and you lie abed, uncaring, for as long as you please! Such self-indulgence in the mistress of Pemberley is unthinkable! I do not know how my nephew did not foresee that this would be the way with you!”

It was clearly a moment in which Mrs. Reynolds must exercise her resolution to protect Mrs. Darcy. She curtsied and addressed Lady Catherine. “What is the matter, your ladyship?”

“My daughter is so grievously ill she cannot leave her bed! Bring me the fool of a maid who brewed her tonics!”

“That would be me, madam. We are without a stillroom maid at the moment.”

Lady Catherine demanded to hear how Mrs. Reynolds brewed the mixtures, and as she recited the ingredients, Mr. Darcy joined them upstairs. Looking past his aunt, he said gently, “Elizabeth, go back inside. I will handle this.” Mrs. Darcy gratefully did so. Then, to his aunt, he said, “I have already sent for a doctor. Let us continue this discussion downstairs. If Anne is ill, she needs rest and quiet.”

“In a moment,” said Lady Catherine. She went into her room and emerged with a paper. Mrs. Reynolds knew immediately what it must be. When they reached Mr. Darcy’s study, Lady Catherine handed the paper to Mrs. Reynolds and commanded, “Read this!”

Mrs. Reynolds hesitated as her eyes brimmed with tears. This was more humiliation than she could possibly bear. Lady Catherine thrust her lorgnette into Mrs. Reynolds’ hand. “Read it aloud!” she snapped.

With the aid of the lorgnette, Mrs. Reynolds could read it easily. She saw her error instantly, and her stomach sank. She complied with the order and read aloud.

“You see, no ginger! Miss de Bourgh cannot tolerate it!” said Lady Catherine. She turned to Mr. Darcy, “She may have been of great use to your mother, but it is high time you retired her.”

Mrs. Reynolds bowed her head, not daring to meet the master’s eye. Her weaknesses had now been exposed in the worst way imaginable.

Mr. Darcy made no direct reply to this. He simply said, “Mrs. Reynolds, when the doctor arrives, send him to Miss de Bourgh’s room first. And now you must excuse me. I must attend to my wife. Good morning, Aunt Catherine.”

Mrs. Reynolds waited anxiously for the doctor, and as soon as he arrived, she disappeared into the stillroom to try to rectify her mistakes with the tonics. She remained there for nearly an hour, feeling all the while the futility of her efforts. Even without using ginger, some other ingredient, or some inaccurate measurement, might upset Miss de Bourgh’s delicate system. She strained with all her might to read Lady Catherine’s recipes, but tears blurred her eyesight further. It seemed her five-and-twenty happy years of service would now be terminated. At length she was again summoned to Mr. Darcy’s study. She entered with utter dread.

In his characteristically serious tone, he began, “I find I am at a loss for words to express my grief at what occurred this morning.” Mrs. Reynolds cringed, and once again, kept her head bowed. “Mrs. Darcy told me of your kindness to her this morning,” he continued, “To have deliberately placed yourself between her and my aunt so that you should receive my aunt’s unpardonable wrath shows a loyalty far beyond the call of duty. I am deeply in your debt for your protection of Elizabeth.”

Mrs. Reynolds looked up in wonder at her master, and in a flood of relief and emotion, burst into fresh tears.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said, as she wiped her eyes. She felt terribly foolish, not only because she never allowed herself to cry in front of anybody, but because she knew she should never have doubted that the master would treat her with anything less than mercy. In all her life she had never heard a cross word from him, and despite her own serious errors, should not have expected to hear any now.

“I am sorry - deeply sorry that my aunt has caused you such pain,” said Mr. Darcy in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, and then in a more agitated voice, “Would to Heaven that I never invited her here! I, who knew how much damage she could cause.”

Mrs. Reynolds hated to see the master blame himself in this way, and many thoughts flew through her mind - that his attempt at peace was admirable, that any damage to herself was really negligible, and that the pain she had caused Miss de Bourgh might be far more serious. But she was too overcome to voice her feelings on any of these but the last. Tremulously, she asked, “How are Mrs. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh?”

“I am assured that both will be fine.”

“Thank the L-rd,” she whispered.

“And now I have something to request of you,” said Mr. Darcy, removing an envelope from his desk. “This is to purchase a particular item at Villeford’s. The shopkeeper has already been apprised of your coming. Joseph will drive you when he brings the doctor back to Lambton. I believe he is already waiting at the door.”

“Yes, sir,” said Mrs. Reynolds, curtsying. She sailed out of the study happily. He had been so generous, not censuring her where he might have, and still entrusting her as his proxy in valuable purchases, for surely the item at Villeford’s was jewelry.

But when she arrived at Villeford’s, she learned that her conjecture had been completely wrong. Mrs. Reynolds had not shown the envelope nor even spoken a word to the shopkeeper’s daughter when the young lady pulled out a box as though she knew precisely why Mrs. Reynolds had been sent.

“Try each of these until you find the best one,” said Miss Villeford, pushing the box toward Mrs. Reynolds. The box was full of spectacles.

“At least she had the courtesy not to ask my age,” thought Mrs. Reynolds. Diffidently, she selected a pair from the top of the box and put it on. Miss Villeford, who had been reading a novel, handed it to Mrs. Reynolds, presumably to test the spectacles. The words on the page appeared clear enough to Mrs. Reynolds, and eager to be done with it, said, “I’ll take these.”

“Try a few others,” said Miss Villeford. “There might be a better pair.”

Mrs. Reynolds sighed. If this was the way Mr. Darcy had chosen to inform her that he found something lacking in her performance, she ought to be grateful. Her pride had already caused too many mistakes. It was high time for her to swallow it.

But as she tried pair after pair, the mortifying process changed to something fraught with possibility. She would be able to thread her own needles without Joseph’s help. She could read shopkeeper’s notes, or whatever else she might choose.

“Do you perhaps have a Bible?” she asked Miss Villeford. The young lady handed her one, and she flipped to her favorite Proverb:

_An accomplished woman, who can find her?  
Her value is more precious than pearls. . ._

A tear fell as her eyes scanned the familiar words.

_She seeks out wool and linen and her hands work willingly_

“Sheep shearing should be any day,” she thought. “Perhaps I will spin again.”

_She opens her mouth with wisdom, and a lesson of kindness is on her tongue . . ._

“Oh, how I have lacked!” she sighed to herself as another pang of shame seized her.

_Grace is false, and beauty is vain_

“So true,” she thought, fingering the frames of her new spectacles.

_but a G-d fearing woman, she should be praised._

“I will do my best,” she whispered, closing the Bible. “I’ll take this pair,” she said to Miss Villeford.

She gasped when she heard the price. It was an extraordinary sum for the Darcys to spend on her, and though she would offer to deduct it from her wages, she knew perfectly well that Mr. Darcy, in his liberality, would not hear of it.

Joseph was waiting for her in front of a shop opposite Villeford’s where he stood in friendly conversation with a soldier. It took a few moments, but she recognized him as Philip Ames, the corporal who had danced with Polly at Bradwell. When Joseph spotted her, he shook hands with the soldier who in turn gave him a letter and left.

“Is that a letter from the Colonel?” Mrs. Reynolds asked Joseph.

“What?” he asked, seemingly confused by the question. “Oh, no, this is from someone else.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss the subject. “And are you happy with your purchase, Mother?”

“You knew? Why did you not tell me beforehand?”

“With the doctor riding with us, I thought perhaps you would prefer -”

“Sparing your vain old Mum her feelings, were you? Well, you did right, lad. And yes, I am happy with them. I am sorry I did not get them sooner.”

But it is impossible for anyone’s vanity to disappear entirely in one day, so Mrs. Reynolds did not put on her new spectacles to show Joseph until they were well out of Lambton, entering Pemberley’s grounds. Joseph complimented them, and Mrs. Reynolds thanked him for all the help he had given her in reading and sewing, and more importantly, for keeping her secret for so long. Joseph demurred that he had only done his duty by her, but he glowed from her praise of him nonetheless.

“Look, Mother!” he cried, changing the subject. “Sheep shearing!”

She turned and saw Mr. Cuerden, one of Pemberley’s most long-standing tenants, carefully shearing a large ewe. Joseph did not have to be told to leave his mother at the cottage, and he knew she wanted more than just a good price for wool.

“Good day, Mrs. Reynolds,” said Mr. Cuerden, “Are ye comin’ from the village just now?”

She answered that she was, but had no wish to share the nature of her errand, and Mr. Cuerden did not press. Instead she took in the view around her, the meadows surrounding Pemberley resplendent in spring blossoms.

“The gardener has complied with Mrs. Darcy’s wishes admirably, has he not?” she remarked.

“‘Tis not his doing alone. I grazed me flock in farther pastures this year, and this bloom came up naturally.”

As he spoke, a few lambs scampered out to the front of the cottage. The sight of them filled her with exuberance so that she almost wished to skip around herself. It was a pleasure to feel so young and light after having felt so old and plodding. She stood there enjoying herself and a familiar voice came up behind her.

“Aren’t they the sweetest little creatures?”

Mrs. Reynolds turned around and smiled. “I trust you are feeling better, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. Walking always invigorates me.” Mrs. Darcy stepped forward to stroke one of the lambs. “I have loved sheep shearing ever since I was a little girl. My sisters and I used to watch every spring, but eventually, all of them lost interest. All but me.”

Mrs. Reynolds understood her perfectly. “My father was a sheep farmer.”

When Mr. Cuerden noticed Mrs. Darcy’s presence, he stopped shearing and held out a handful of freshly shorn wool for her to examine.

“Healthy sheep make good wool,” he said.

Mrs. Reynolds added, “If you rub your hands in it, madam, the natural oils will soften your skin quite nicely.”

“Mrs. Reynolds you are a veritable fountain of practical wisdom,” said Mrs. Darcy, laughing. “I should add that my eldest sister is grateful for your recipe for raspberry tea. I sent it to her when you first served it to me.”

“I am very happy to hear it, madam.”

Mrs. Darcy turned to Mr. Cuerden. “May I try shearing?” she asked.

He was reluctant to hand her the shears, but he could not deny Mrs. Darcy anything she requested. She received them with a smile, leaned over one of the ewes, and sheared her quite skillfully. Mr. Cuerden stared at her in undisguised incredulity. With a silent step, the master joined them. His face bore a similar look of amazement, but mixed with genuine admiration.

Mr. Cuerden bowed and began to apologize to him, “She requested the shears, squire, and in truth, she handles ‘em as though she’s shorn before.”

“I have,” said she. “My father’s farm hands taught me.”

"Arr?" said Mr. Cuerden. That any gentleman’s daughter should know how to shear puzzled Mr. Cuerden no end, but Mrs. Reynolds knew it was this sort of joy of life and disregard for convention that made the mistress so beloved to the master.

“Perhaps you might get my wife something with which to wash her hands when she is finished, and something for her to drink.

“Arright, squire!” said Mr. Cuerden, who at once went into his cottage and returned with a towel and a glass of water.

“You take such good care of me,” said Mrs. Darcy to her husband when she had finished her drink.

“Elizabeth, you are carrying our child,” he said in a low voice that only she and Mrs. Reynolds could hear. “I rather doubt I can take care of you well enough.”

Mrs. Darcy made no reply to this other than a tender gaze. She then turned and looked up at the house standing majestically at the top of the woody hills. “When I first saw Pemberley, I thought I had never seen a place for which nature had done more. Then you brought me here as your wife, in all the tranquility of a recently fallen snow, and I was breathtaken. And now today, in the full bloom of spring, it is impossible to say which of these views I love best.”

“Indeed,” said the master, looking at her and not the view, “it is difficult to determine. But I would say that Pemberley has grown steadily more beautiful, and is especially so now.”

It seemed to Mrs. Reynolds a good moment to let the couple outstrip her, and when they had veered off in a separate direction, she returned to the house. She did not see them for the rest of the afternoon, but by evening, she wished very much to thank them for the spectacles, and sought them in the salon where they sat after Lady Catherine had retired for the night. But before she had a chance to knock at the door, Mr. Darcy opened it, with his sleeping wife in his arms.

He blushed and said hastily, “She - the walk this afternoon - she fatigued herself excessively, I am afraid.”

“Oh, I quite understand, sir!” Mrs. Reynolds said, in an effort to curb his embarrassment. “Strong women often have difficulty acknowledging their own limitations.” She turned around quickly and headed toward her own quarters, but she could not help but notice how Mrs. Darcy stirred at the top of the stairs and how Mr. Darcy soothed her with a small kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

Mr. Darcy was downstairs early the next morning, and had the gardener and a local carpenter called to his study. Mrs. Reynolds, who also had business with the gardener, went about her morning tasks while listening for them to finish, for she knew that as soon as they emerged from the study, they would survey the grounds to begin the work on whatever they were planning. Over an hour had passed when Mrs. Reynolds heard them near the front door, still in earnest discussion. Diffidently, she stepped into the hallway, and on seeing her, the gardener instantly promised the very thing she sought: a large harvest of petals for her aromatic waters.

Immediately after that was settled, Lady Catherine descended the stairs. Mr. Darcy sent the two men outdoors, and politely inquired of his aunt as to the health of his cousin. She had not come down for dinner the night before.

“She is slightly improved, and with the doctor’s approval, I will remove her to Matlock which I am certain will further her recovery.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Mr. Darcy. “As soon as you have his sanction, I shall assist you in your journey by every means in my power.”

This sounded to Lady Catherine like the honor due her, so she favored her nephew with the first smile of her visit. And since she must reciprocate by attending to his needs, she eyed the men with whom Mr. Darcy had been speaking, and said, “If that is your gardener, you must reprimand him for the state of your grounds. I have never seen such neglect. Why, wildflowers cover every hill and valley!”

Returning her smile, he said, “As a matter of fact, I quite like the color they have added, but we are all entitled to our own tastes.” He bowed, ordered Mrs. Reynolds to see to her ladyship’s breakfast, and went outdoors to join the men.

For her part, Mrs. Reynolds had not forgiven Lady Catherine for suggesting Mr. Darcy retire her and was only too happy to allow Joseph to attend her in the dining room. She went to the kitchen to deliver the message that her ladyship’s breakfast was wanting, and entered to the rare sight of Mr. Olivierre and Constance laughing together.

“Well, I have good news for both of you. Lady Catherine’s party will be leaving today, quite likely, but meanwhile, her ladyship is waiting for breakfast.”

“Toast and jam, Bridget. I’ll make the eggs,“ said Constance. “Her ladyship would not touch the muck she insists on for her daughter.”

“Just a moment, Constance,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Step into the larder with me.” And the two left, with Constance repeating everything she knew about how Miss deBourgh disposed of her food, which in its way, was meant to comfort Mrs. Reynolds. Following Lady Catherine’s recipes did not guarantee improvement in her daughter’s health.

As Constance prattled on, Mrs. Reynolds slipped on her new spectacles and turned around to face her friend.

“Well, well,” said Constance, “Don’t you look as serious and respectable as ever?”

“But do they,” said she, “do they age me much?”

Constance laughed. “You look just the age to have three married daughters, seven grandchildren, and a son fit for university.”

It was not perhaps the answer Mrs. Reynolds would have liked, but in a soft whisper, she thanked Constance for reminding her of her blessings, the fruits of a lifetime with a promise of a future. It was far more than Constance had.

Still wearing the spectacles, Mrs. Reynolds walked back to the kitchen with Constance. Neither Mr. Olivierre nor Bridget seemed to notice any change in her appearance. She addressed the head cook, “I hope you can spare Bridget this afternoon. I need all the hands I can get for the aromatic waters.”

“Certainly,” replied he, cocking his head as though suddenly noticing the difference. “They look very well, Mrs. Reynolds.”

She smiled slightly and left the kitchen without a word. The kitchen staff had been as kindly as she could have hoped, and she had no doubt Mr. Hammond would be equally gentlemanlike. Yet somehow, she still dreaded facing the pretty young maids. She winced at herself and wondered why, at her age, she still harbored the fears of a plain-faced farm girl. Then the words of the Proverb read the previous day flooded her mind: “Grace is false and beauty is vain, but a G-d fearing woman, she should be praised.”

In that state of reflection, she walked distractedly to her own workroom. One of the gardener’s lads placed a small sack on a pile of others like it.

“There you have it, ma’am,” he said, pointing. “Each sack has a different type. Roses and orange blossoms from the hothouse, gardenia, lavender, mint, and one sack with all sorts of wildflowers.”

Mrs. Reynolds thanked him and began opening each sack, taking in the inviting variety of fragrances. She always awaited perfume-making season with eagerness, and this year, with a new mistress to please, the prospect was even sweeter.

“I must have Constance bake some cloves,” she thought. “Mrs. Darcy will appreciate a spicier blend.”

Just then, Polly entered the room.

“Is the mistress lying in this morning? I expected she might.”

Polly started a moment at Mrs. Reynolds in her spectacles and replied, “Yes, ma’am. The master told me early this morning to let her sleep as long as she likes. I think he is planning a surprise for her.”

“I daresay,” agreed Mrs. Reynolds, looking out at the grounds where she could detect the distant figures of three men on horseback. “Anything that will give Mrs. Darcy pleasure is to be done in an instant.”

Polly continued to regard her cautiously, and Mrs. Reynolds self-consciously adjusted her new spectacles when Polly suddenly curtsied and said, “Ma’am, I have a confession to make. I have not told anyone, not Cora, nor Mrs. Darcy.” She paused to gather her breath and courage. “I have received an offer of marriage.”

Mrs. Reynolds could not contain her delight and embraced Polly immediately. “Dear child, I have suspected it would soon be coming. I am surprised at Joseph’s circumspection.”

“Oh, please do not be angry with him.”

“Angry? How could I be angry at a time like this? We should be rejoicing!” and she pulled Polly close again and kissed her on the cheek. “My dear daughter!”

“Ma’am?” said Polly, all astonishment. Then her eyes widened with understanding. “Joseph is not my beau, ma’am. He is a fine, young man, of course, and helped Philip and me carry on our correspondence. I am engaged to Philip Ames, the soldier we met at the Bradwell ball, the one who was dancing with me when I sprained my wrist.”

Mrs. Reynolds grew suddenly stern. A rapid succession of thoughts flew through her mind. She was almost jealous on her son’s behalf. She remembered the large stack of letters she had found while searching the maids’ quarters. She had assumed they were from Joseph himself. But, no, Joseph had only been a messenger. Polly’s lover was another, a soldier.

“I am shocked! You have known him for only five weeks. You cannot decide to make someone your partner in life after so short an acquaintance!”

Polly trembled, but her face was set with the same resolve that she had shown at the ball. “If you wish to inquire into his character, ma’am, you may apply to Captain Everett. He has recommended Philip to Colonel Fitzwilliam so that he might be stationed in London, and we are hoping that with your recommendation and Mrs. Darcy’s, I could become Mrs. Fitzwilliam’s maid.”

“So you are giving notice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Another maid improperly trusted,” thought Mrs. Reynolds. Nancy had already made a fool of her; she could not allow Polly to do the same.

“Thoughtless girl! You are leaving your mistress in her time of need and me with two vacancies to fill! When Cora first recommended you, I wondered at your lack of loyalty to Bradwell. I thought perhaps that if Pemberley offered you a better situation, you would stay. But now I see that nothing pleases you. You are more willful than I ever suspected! You will get no character from me!”

Polly’s eyes filled with indignant tears, and Mrs. Reynolds expected her to retaliate, for without a character, she had nothing else to lose, but she said only, “I could not help when I fell in love.” She then curtsied and fled the room.

Mrs. Reynolds considered following her, but went instead to confront Joseph. With brisk, determined steps, she entered every downstairs room in search of him, all in vain. Finally, she went out to the stables where he might be readying the wagon for the day’s deliveries. It was a few minutes’ walk, and that gave her time to reflect on all she had heard. That Joseph had acted as the couple’s messenger showed that he had known of their attachment from the beginning, but Mrs. Reynolds could not believe that he had done it without some jealousy. If his love for Polly was so selfless that he could, for the sake of her happiness, help another man to court her, that only underscored the fact that Polly had chosen the lesser man.

“Joseph,” said she, “what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be assisting this man Ames? Have not you always loved Polly?”

Joseph started, colored deeply, and then replied, “I have never loved Polly, Mother, nor is this the time of my life to attach myself to any woman. My examinations are only a few weeks away.”

“But you told me yourself that you think she is a good girl.”

“I do think so, just as I think that Corporal Ames is a good man. And you know that I never give such compliments lightly.”

Confused and deflated, she replied, “That is precisely why I thought you loved Polly.”

Joseph walked toward her and kissed her on the cheek. Grown man that he was, he seldom displayed his affection in physical endearments. The gesture was meant entirely to soothe her. “Are you very disappointed? I assure you I plan to marry someday, and to a woman you will esteem as much as Polly. But now, my mind and heart belong in my books, and I will keep them there until I complete my education.”

When he finished speaking, she heard other men’s voices from a greater distance, and remembered that Mr. Darcy, the carpenter, and the gardener were circling the grounds.

“I must return to the house,” she said.

Joseph nodded dutifully, but before climbing onto his seat in the carriage, he said, “Mother, will you accompany me to the examinations? You have not been away from Pemberley in three years.”

“I am needed here,” said she, “and besides, I should only be in your way.”

“The examinations last several hours each day, but for evenings and meals, I cannot think of anybody whose company I should enjoy more.”

Mrs. Reynolds smiled warmly. “Dear boy. I shall consider it. But it is over one hundred miles away, and I am much needed here,” and in her own thoughts added, “despite all my recent mistakes.”

She walked back up to the house, and as she approached it, she heard a tune sung very prettily, though the voice was not Miss Darcy’s nor was it coming from inside the house. It seemed to at the back, so she followed the voice, only to find Martha singing her heart out while hanging the morning’s wash. Martha stopped everything suddenly and curtsied when she saw Mrs. Reynolds.

“Martha, what in the world are you doing?”

“Petticoats, ma’am.”

“I see that. I mean, why were you singing?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t thinking what I was doing.”

“Well, stop it and think!” hissed Mrs. Reynolds. She turned on her heel and headed toward the house. Before she had even entered, she overheard Lady Catherine berating the kitchen staff, and thinking of the fearful look Martha had just given her, and of the violence of her accusations against Polly, Mrs. Reynolds began to regret her own behavior. She seemed to have become as overbearing as Lady Catherine herself. She again remembered a verse from the Proverb: “A lesson of kindness is on her tongue.” She returned to Martha.

Martha was so surprised to be revisited by Mrs. Reynolds that she unconsciously stepped back and nearly kicked over one of her water buckets. Mrs. Reynolds sighed. Since the dismissal of Timothy and Nancy, her opinion of Martha had changed dramatically, but she had never once been able to speak openly to her.

“Am I so very frightening, Martha?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the girl without thinking. “I mean - ”

“Do not apologize. I want you to be frank. In truth it is I who owes you an apology for misjudging you for so long. And I must thank you also. You cleared Joseph’s name, and soon he will take his examinations for university as originally planned.”

Martha did not cease her washing while Mrs. Reynolds spoke, nor did she meet her eyes, but she was listening, and Mrs. Reynolds judged by the slowing of her movements that she was much affected by what she heard.

“Timothy were never my friend, ma’am,” said she, as though still trying to persuade Mrs. Reynolds of her innocence. “And I didn’t need Polly to teach me that neither. ‘Course I am grateful to her though. And. . .to you. . .for putting her up to it.”

They were the most gratifying words Mrs. Reynolds could imagine hearing from Martha. She was thoroughly humbled.

“I dare not claim much credit there. Polly befriended you quite willingly.”

As she spoke, she felt how profoundly Polly’s loss would affect Pemberley. She owned to herself that it was worry over losing Polly that led her to confront her so unjustly. After all, she could not honestly blame her for her secrecy; courtship ought to be a private matter. The suddenness of it did bother her, however, but as Polly had suggested, she need only make further inquiries into the lad’s character. Mrs. Darcy would undoubtedly do the same.

In all her musings, Mrs. Reynolds momentarily lost sense of her situation and did not immediately notice that Martha was staring at her. As soon as her eyes met Martha’s, the girl averted her gaze.

“Do you like my spectacles?” ventured Mrs. Reynolds.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Even Timothy knew I needed them.”

“He were - was - too big a fool to work that out for himself, ma’am. Nancy told ‘im. She told me, too, the day we made soap. She said that’s why you always work from memory.”

“She was a clever girl, but not an honest one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It is best to be both. Now, because I have no stillroom maid, all the maids will be helping me make perfumes this afternoon directly after our supper. I expect you there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Martha, smiling and curtsying.

Mrs. Reynolds went away, grateful to have apologized to her, and well aware that she must also do so with Polly.

But making such a resolution and executing it were two very different matters. Polly had gone upstairs to Mrs. Darcy, and a new thought occurred to Mrs. Reynolds that filled her with dread. Surely Mrs. Darcy would notice Polly’s distress, and Polly would have no reason to conceal it. As much as she feared dismissal yesterday, she had more cause to fear it now. One was an error born of vanity, but this time, she had spoken words of malice, and breached the Pemberley standard. She went over all her harsh words, and grew more and more ashamed.

It was shortly before the servants’ dinner when Mrs. Darcy called her to their daily meeting.

“I hope you are well this morning, madam,” began Mrs. Reynolds with a curtsy.

“Yes, thank you,” said Mrs. Darcy without the faintest trace of a smile. Her dark eyes, which usually danced with humor and liveliness, seemed serious and penetrating now. “First and foremost, you and I must discuss Polly.”

Mrs. Reynolds was not surprised by the mistress’ directness. It was her way in all things, and Mrs. Reynolds had learned to always respond in kind. “I apologize to you, madam, and will apologize to her at the first opportunity. I was unjust; I know it. When she gave notice, I allowed my disappointment to get the better of me.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Darcy very quietly, “I have certainly been guilty of making unjust accusations myself. And I will be grateful for the rest of my life that I was given a second chance.”

Mrs. Reynolds shuddered as she thought how easily she might have lost her own second chance.

“Polly will be a great loss to me,” the mistress continued, “and I do intend to make inquiries about Corporal Ames for her sake. I agree with you that it is a very short acquaintance for so momentous a decision, but I do know of happy couples who feel they are made for each other from the first.”

Mrs. Reynolds wondered if Mrs. Darcy was speaking of her husband and herself, but those particulars were not her concern. “When does she plan to marry him?” she asked.

“She hoped very soon, but you, in mentioning my time of need, gave her pause. She was considering a delay, but I told her she ought not on my account. There are other good maids. Martha was quite good when Polly was injured.”

Mrs. Reynolds curtsied. “If you please, madam, I have come to like Martha very much. She is honest, and determined to improve herself, but she is an uneducated. She could not read to you, or assist you in your correspondence, or -”

“I have never required a maid’s help in any of those things,” said Mrs. Darcy, as the laughter returned to her eyes, “but I do appreciate a good hairdresser.”

“As you wish, madam,” said Mrs. Reynolds. Inwardly, she considered Martha’s abilities as a seamstress. In that she was more than adequate, and Polly might teach her some of the niceties. With a discreet glance, she surveyed Mrs. Darcy’s present apparel, and when eyes rested on the lace trim, she abruptly cried, “Oh, Mrs. Darcy, I have not even thanked you for the spectacles! When I think of all the things I have missed out on doing! So many years, and I have not even been able to thread my own needles!”

This happy thought brought the final release of all the tension of the morning, and Mrs. Reynolds grew slightly tearful. It went unnoticed, however, for at that moment, Mr. Darcy entered the room, smiling broadly as though he had very good news to report.

“So, Mr. Darcy,” said his wife with a mixture of sweetness and archness, “Do you come in all this state to tell me that your aunt is leaving us? If so, then I am sorry to disappoint you, but she made me aware of that herself. She very graciously bestowed her forgiveness on me, in fact.” Then, straightening her back stiffly and deepening her voice, she said, “‘Given your connections and lack of experience, I cannot rightly expect more of you, so despite my previous reservations, I will continue to maintain my ties here, for Pemberley’s sake.’”

Her performance was uncannily accurate, and even Mr. Darcy, who would otherwise have been very angry, burst into a laugh louder than Mrs. Reynolds had ever heard from him. She could barely contain herself either, and looked down lest the Darcys see the tears accompanying her smothered laughter.

“My dearest, incorrigible Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, “pray speak of it no more. I will have no dark clouds on this glorious day. Come! The little phaeton awaits you,” and he offered his arm as she rose from her chair.

“The little phaeton?” she asked, puzzled. Mrs. Reynolds smiled as Mr. Darcy led his wife outside to present her with whatever surprise he had been crafting for her all morning.

That afternoon, the entire female staff gathered behind the house to make the aromatic waters. The lads had carried out some of the tables from the stillroom and filled two barrels with water. Constance brought out baked cloves, fresh from the oven, and a large bowl of salt. Mrs. Reynolds arranged the earthen storage jars on the tables, and with the and sacks of flower petals and mint leaves removed from her workroom, she began her directions.

“Cora, you will make Miss Darcy’s, of course, and Ellen will help. She favors the recipe I used for her late mother: about three quarters of rose petals to one quarter lavender.” Mrs. Reynolds removed the petals from their sacks in correct proportion. “Polly and Martha, you may improvise a bit for Mrs. Darcy’s. Make use of the cloves for spiciness, but the sweetness of the flowers should dominate the blend. Next is the salt,” but she hesitated before pouring it out. “Bridget, run into the kitchen and fetch us a measuring cup. I ought to be precise in my instructions.”

When Bridget returned with the cup, Mrs. Reynolds eyed the tiny numbers carefully, and nearly laughed at herself for doing it. Measurements were for the young and inexperienced, and now in her advanced age, she was relying on them. “Two cups for each pile of flowers,” she announced.

She began to rub the petals into the salt, and the girls copied her. “Bridget, fill the jars almost to the top.” The girl complied while the others continued to rub. “There now,” she said, “You see. The friction turns the petals into paste, and we scrape it off the table and put it in the jars. Let me smell it first.” And she went round the table and sniffed at both mixtures. “Delicious,” she praised the girls. “And now we repeat until all the petals are gone. It may surprise you to know that these waters will retain their aroma for several years, but I make more every summer. I must see to something indoors. Please continue as I’ve shown you.”

Mrs. Reynolds went into the stillroom and prepared six small vials of the lavender water already in storage for each of the five maids helping, and an extra one for Polly. She then returned outdoors to the maids, checked on their work, and though they were not finished, gave each one her vial, and then holding up the last for all of them to see, said, “and here is an additional one for the bride among us.” All the girls looked up in astonishment, four at the news, and Polly at Mrs. Reynolds’ change of heart.

With a bit of a flourish, Mrs. Reynolds handed the vial to Polly, and finished, “with many wishes of a happy life together.” Then she embraced her and whispered in her ear, “I am sorry.”

Polly’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she said nothing to Mrs. Reynolds, for the others began to bombard her with questions.

“Why did you not tell us?” Cora and Martha both asked at once.

“Is it that soldier from the Bradwell dance?” asked Ellen.

“I can keep no secrets from any of you,” laughed Polly, and she began to tell them about her courtship, all the while glancing at Mrs. Reynolds, not to seek her sanction, but with some desire to prove that she had not made a rash and foolish decision.

“I liked him from the moment he led me to the dance, but when the Bradwell servants taunted me and made me fall, he was so gentlemanlike that I saw that perhaps he could be much more to me than a pleasant partner at a dance. Oh, I hope someday all of you will hear a young man speak to you gently while feeling the strength of his arms supporting you.” Her voice trailed off dreamily. For a moment it was silent around their work table, as all the girls indulged in dreams of their own.

Ellen was the first to speak. “I tell you, I thought it would happen, though I couldn’t guess how. When he sat with us at the dance, anyone could see who he preferred, even though he did dance with me.”

“But how did he court you?” asked Cora. “You might never have seen him again after that.”

“He sent me a note the next morning. And it was . . .” She paused to collect herself and went on, “And I answered him, and we have continued ever since.” She looked at Mrs. Reynolds a little fearfully, for that part of their courtship required Joseph’s collusion.

“Undoubtedly you will cherish those letters for the rest of your life, Polly. And when the time comes, each of your friends will have stacks of letters of their very own.”

“All letters?” asked Martha, incredulously. “You’ve seen him only just that one time?”

“No, I did see him on Sundays. He began to attend church at Kempton instead of with his regiment. His captain permitted it.”

“Fancy all those weeks and I never even noticed the young man,” thought Mrs. Reynolds.

“But when, Polly?” asked Martha a little forlornly.

“I was thinking perhaps in October, or perhaps,” she ventured another glance at Mrs. Reynolds, “sooner. Perhaps during the summer.”

“That is soon,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “You discuss it with your young man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Polly, smiling broadly, “We certainly will.”

“Come, we must not forget our work,” said Mrs. Reynolds, and they all busied themselves with the petals once again while chatting excitedly about weddings and dresses, but they were soon drowned out by the noise of one of the carpenter’s assistants, who had sat himself down to work near them, and was hammering away obliviously.

“Whatever is he building over there?” asked Bridget after a while.

“It looks like a bench,” said Martha.

“So it is!” said Mrs. Reynolds, remembering Mr. Darcy’s meeting with the carpenter and gardener that morning. “I daresay they are adding new benches all around the park and woods so that Mrs. Darcy might rest when she is out walking.”

Already in a romantic mood, the young maids sighed at the thought of so attentive a husband. Mrs. Reynolds understood. “Without question, wealth can add greatly to the pleasures of life, but I promise you, my girls, a man who truly loves you will make you feel like a queen regardless of the size of his pocketbook.”


	12. Chapter 12

A few weeks of quiet followed Lady Catherine’s departure from Pemberley. With the exception of Sir Albert, the most frequent visitor to the house was the dressmaker, for Mrs. Darcy’s figure had swelled and she was having a new wardrobe made. The lull in activity was very welcome below stairs, for summer was fast approaching, and soon the servants would be busy again as dozens of visitors came to Pemberley, many to tour its grounds, and others by invitation. For Joseph and Mrs. Reynolds, however, the respite was especially fortuitous. Joseph’s university entrance examinations were scheduled for that period, and it seemed likely that his mother could accompany him. He wanted it even more for her sake than his own.

In general, Mrs. Reynolds was reluctant to take leaves of absence. Even at the quietest of times, Pemberley needed her. At present, there was Martha to be trained and her replacement to be found, as well as a replacement for Nancy, already lacking for several weeks. Yet there were other arguments in favor of her making the journey. Mrs. Darcy seemed to have passed the worst and no longer requested any special brews of tea. There was a ball planned in honor of Miss Darcy’s birthday at the end of June, but there was enough time for Mrs. Reynolds absent herself for a little while before she had to begin preparations. Indeed, as she reflected on it more, she could not think of better circumstances under which Pemberley could spare her. She had not been away from Pemberley since her daughter’s wedding three years earlier. Accompanying a son to university seemed the equivalent.

On a warm and bright morning, she boarded a small carriage alongside Joseph, and together they headed for Cambridge, a journey of nearly two days. Mrs. Reynolds had not had such a long and uninterrupted stretch of time with her son in years, but neither of them could completely relax and enjoy it. Joseph was anxious about the examinations, and Mrs. Reynolds, now traveling the great distance that would soon separate them, was almost beginning to regret losing him. She knew such reservations were selfish. Attending Cambridge would be the fulfillment of a goal Joseph had worked toward for years and an extraordinary opportunity for him by any standard. So as the carriage rolled on, she tried hard to banish such thoughts and sat and listened to him review his studies aloud. She surprised herself in how much she was able to follow.

“Speaking these ideas to you clarifies them in my mind,” Joseph told her.

“This is the patience he used in teaching Martha,” she thought proudly, and for the first time, her long-cherished dream of his becoming Mr. Darcy’s next steward was replaced by the image of him teaching poor boys at the local grammar school, educating others in return for the charity he had once received. He was equally well-suited to both.

Mrs. Reynolds and Joseph spent the first night in an inn, and on the second day, the countryside seemed to gradually disappear and be replaced by villages increasingly larger in size. When they reached the town of Cambridge, Mrs. Reynolds realized that they were in a city. She was not fond of cities. She had been to London only once in her life more than twenty years before, and had declined every offer to revisit it since. But as she looked around Cambridge, she concluded that it was very different. It was a university town, not a place of factories and business, so the air was cleaner. More importantly, she saw no street urchins as she had in London. For all of London’s grandeur, those street urchins still stood out as her most prominent impression of the city.

Mr. Darcy had arranged for Joseph and herself to stay at the home of his former mentor, Professor Demarest. This had given her apprehensions from the beginning, though she dared not tell Mr. Darcy. It seemed to her that perhaps it would be too great a condescension for a professor to host a domestic servant. Joseph’s attending university would change his sphere in life, but it felt strange to her to be received as a guest in the home of someone who outranked her. Yet the professor’s warm welcome proved that he was not above entertaining a domestic servant, and Mrs. Reynolds swelled with pride when the professor shook Joseph’s hand and said, “Mr. Darcy has spoken very highly of you, young man.”

Joseph made a slight demur as politeness would dictate, but Professor Demarest continued, “Nonsense! Young Mr. Darcy’s recommendations are always superior scholars,” and as though on cue, Lawrence Prewett, son of Pemberley’s vicar, stepped into the room. A few years older than Joseph, Mr. Darcy had sponsored his education almost immediately upon his father’s assuming the vicarage at Kempton. Like his father, Lawrence Prewett intended to take orders once his education was complete, but because the elder Mr. Prewett was in excellent health and was much loved by his parish, Lawrence Prewett would have to seek his living outside Pemberley.

“Larry!” cried Joseph, clasping his hand.

“Surprised?” he asked, turning to shake Mrs. Reynolds’ hand as well.

“No simple handshake will do for me, young man,” said she, and the two briefly embraced. “Your mother asked me to try and see you while I was here. I did not expect to find you so soon.”

“Mr. Darcy arranged it,” said Professor Demarest.

“And I would be much obliged if I could join you on your journey home,” said Larry. “It has been some time since I have seen my parents.”

“Our pleasure, of course,” said Joseph happily. The familiar face was precisely what he needed to ease his anxiety. King’s College at Cambridge was founded especially for commoners, so he would find peers there, but most of the students were graduates of Eton. Joseph, schooled locally in Derbyshire, would enter the university with no acquaintance than other Larry Prewett, and was glad to see him so early on.

They were served a plain meal, and the two young men fell into conversation. Professor Demarest, meanwhile, shared with Mrs. Reynolds his fond memories of the late master, whom he also knew well. With such reminiscences, Mrs. Reynolds enjoyed herself immensely. All the while, however, from sheer force of habit, she evaluated the work of the servants in the professor’s home. From the overall neatness of the house and heartiness of the dinner, she knew that he employed servants who took good care of their widowed master, and that such things came from real love and respect, and not a mere sense of duty.

When they were shown to their rooms Mrs. Reynolds was glad to see that hers was small and humbly furnished like her bedroom at Pemberley, not a lavish guest room where she would feel out of place. She went to sleep feeling thoroughly satisfied with the journey thus far. Although the distance from Pemberley still bothered her, she saw at least that Joseph would be in reliable hands.

But nothing could have prepared her for the magnificence of the university when she was brought there the next morning. It was like Pemberley, a hundred fold vaster. The chapel was the tallest and most ornate she had ever seen in her life, and she lingered there after services to pray in privacy for Joseph’s success. Larry Prewett took the time to show her around the university afterward. He began with the library, which surpassed even Pemberley’s, which itself was reputed as the largest in three counties. This one was floor after floor, room after room, all full of books. She knew that Joseph would also be awestruck upon first seeing it, and would savor his hours there if given the opportunity, but as there was not another woman in sight, she did not wish to stay. Larry then brought her out to the gallery where they viewed portraits of some of King’s College’s most prominent graduates. Charles Townshend was the most famous, but Larry pointed out three generations of men named “Fletcher.” Larry admired them because they were parsons and poets, but what struck Mrs. Reynolds was that after one man received an education and joined the world of achievement, his son and grandson were able to follow in his path. She uttered yet another prayer that the Almighty bless her with even a morsel of such good fortune.

At lunchtime, they met Joseph and ate what they had brought from Professor Demarest’s house. After that, they walked along the gardens until they came to the River Cam where there was another new sight to capture Mrs. Reynolds’ attention. Young men were standing on tiny little boats, pushing themselves with long sticks up and down the river.

“It’s called punting,” Larry told him, “and it’s a favorite sport here. You ought to try it now, Joseph. It’s great fun and a superb way to release tension.”

Joseph chuckled, watched a little more, and then grinned and agreed. He and Larry ran to the river’s edge, found punts and sticks, and after a quick lesson, Joseph was punting down the river with the others. Coming back upstream was harder, of course, but he was invigorated when he was back on land.

“You were right,” he told Larry. “And now, the examinations resume.”

In the subsequent days, while Joseph was busy with his examinations, Mrs. Reynolds returned to the college, and found herself drawn to the chapel and gardens in particular, dividing her time between prayer and watching the sheep graze. Joseph tried punting every day thereafter, growing more graceful with practice, and amusing both himself and his mother by racing with Larry. At night, they would return to Professor Demarest’s home, and while the men engrossed themselves in scholarly discussions, she donned her new spectacles and sewed beside the fireplace. Joseph commented more than once how pleased he was to see her enjoy her well-earned leisure.

After a week, Mrs. Reynolds, Joseph, and Larry began their journey home. Joseph was in a lighter mood than before. The examinations were behind him, and he was confident, though guardedly so. Larry assured him that from what he had heard, all the professors who met Joseph were impressed with him, so his admittance would simply be a matter of time. Mrs. Reynolds listened attentively, hoping Joseph’s ambition would at last be fulfilled, but as the large distance between Cambridge and Pemberley stretched out before her again, she could not shake a tinge of sadness at his going so far away.

As soon as they arrived back at Pemberley, however, Mrs. Reynolds no longer had time to entertain such thoughts. Upon arrival, they were called to the Darcys, who greeted them with actual excitement and asked them to sit and recount their experiences. It felt strange to Mrs. Reynolds to sit down with the Darcys and converse with them as though they were equals. Having been with the family so long, she was of course on very intimate terms with them, and she knew that the Darcys held Joseph and herself in higher esteem than they did many people in their own class and even some of their relations, but there was always some formality in their communications that preserved the distinction of rank. Yet if her trip to Cambridge had taught her anything, it was that the strict social structure she knew was fast disappearing. Joseph might very likely raise the name of Reynolds to heights her own late husband would never have dared to dream.

And with the memory of her husband and the impressions of the previous week flooding her mind, she was glad she was sitting down, for she had an impulse to do something foolish and undignified, like kneeling down and kissing Mr. Darcy’s hand. But instead she spoke effusively, though not very coherently, “Mr. Darcy - the professor - so very kind - I am so grateful - if only Mr. Reynolds had lived to see it!” And here, she paused to dab her eyes with her handkerchief. Collecting herself, she said, “I am sorry. I am overcome. How can I ever thank you enough for what you have made possible for Joseph?”

“As I have always said, my role in Joseph’s education is the smaller one. Joseph has made this possible for himself.”

And he, much moved by his mother’s speech and Mr. Darcy’s response, was also profuse in his thanks. “It was far greater than I had ever imagined it. I have never wished for anything so fervently in all my life. I will be forever indebted to you should they choose to admit me.”

“But of course they will!” his proud mother interrupted. “Larry Prewett said the professors were impressed with you.”

“Even without having heard from any of them, I am confident that is true,” said Mr. Darcy. “And how were the examinations?”

Joseph then began to discuss all sorts of academic subjects in great detail while Mr. Darcy listened attentively. It was much like the nightly scenes at Professor Demarest’s home, only this time, there was another woman present, though she seemed to be as interested in the conversation as the men. But the mistress did not forget Mrs. Reynolds, and turned to her and said, “Georgiana is in the salon. She will certainly want to welcome you home.”

They left the men and walked to the salon whose door was wide open. Mrs. Reynolds instantly understood why; Sir Albert was in there with her. And as they drew closer, she could hear that the two of them were speaking in a foreign language she assumed to be Italian. This seemed to Mrs. Reynolds the clearest proof of Sir Albert’s having broken through Miss Georgiana’s shyness. Mrs. Reynolds would not even dare to pronounce the name “Olivierre,” and she remembered that the Contessa herself would not speak English in company, and relied on her children to translate for her. Miss Georgiana did not speak freely even in her native language except amongst those she loved best. Thus, in some astonishment, Mrs. Reynolds whispered to the mistress, “He is teaching her to speak his language?”

“Is it not wonderful?” said Mrs. Darcy in an similarly hushed tone. “They now spend as much time practicing Italian as they do practicing music.”

“Mrs. Reynolds!” cried Miss Darcy when she entered. “How was your journey?”

“Yes, tell us,” said Sir Albert with almost as much enthusiasm. “I should love to hear about dear old Cambridge.”

She began to narrate the things she had seen, and amongst them, mentioned punting.

“Punting!” laughed Sir Albert. “Oh, you bring back happy memories.”

“I thought punting was very dangerous,” said Miss Darcy, surprised. “The current of the river is so strong, it could sweep the boat out from under someone. At least that is what happened to - ” and she broke off, realizing what she had almost given away.

“Happened to whom?” asked Sir Albert in amused. “Who has been toying with your affectionate heart and exaggerating his bravery in order to impress you? Was it your brother or the Colonel?”

Miss Darcy, who could not bear to hear either of her guardians spoken of in such unflattering terms, hastily said, “No, no! Neither of them would ever invent a falsehood!” and she blushed furiously, not daring to speak lest she reveal something more.

“Please do not take me so seriously,” said Sir Albert, “though your loyalty is praiseworthy. I do not think Sofia would come to _my_ defense with such passion, but I suppose that is because I am her _younger_ brother.”

Miss Darcy made no reply to this, so Mrs. Darcy did.

“Perhaps as the older sister, her responsibility to defend you is even greater.”

Mrs. Reynolds saw what she was about. She hoped to give Miss Darcy a chance to compose herself by changing the subject to a general discussion of human nature. It was a favorite tactic of hers, but this time, it failed. Sir Albert was watching Miss Darcy with concern. He had not seen her retreat into silence in this manner since the very beginning of their acquaintance. Her trust was not easily won, and he had earned it through his patience and understanding. Mrs. Reynolds remembered the day he stood transfixed by her music, somehow able to read her character from the way she played. For these two, music was as much of a language as English or Italian, so when speech failed, Sir Albert knew how to reach her.

“Shall we play some music? Which do you prefer: to duet or to accompany me?”

“I will accompany you,” Miss Darcy answered softly.

Sir Albert looked disappointed at this reply, and knew that he must tread lightly. He led toward the conservatory and not to the more intimate setting of her sitting room.

“It is a shame she did not chose to sing,” Mrs. Darcy said to Mrs. Reynolds when the two left the room, “but if she changes her mind as the evening wears on, we will know that all was forgotten.”

“I daresay he suspects nothing, madam,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“I agree. I am more concerned about how Miss Darcy views herself. She still blames herself, I fear, perhaps so much so that she will judge herself unworthy of Sir Albert’s love. He cherishes her for her innocence. I have heard him tell her so.”

“And he is right. Had she been less innocent, she would have seen through Wickham’s scheme.”

“Yes, of course. And I for one believe Sir Albert would agree. The difficulty lies with Georgiana. Both because of her own principles and because she has seen the frankness between my husband and me, she values honesty in a marriage. On one hand, she feels obligated to tell Sir Albert about her past, and on the other, she wishes to conceal it from him. Mr. Darcy and I each have our own opinions, but we both agree that ultimately, Georgiana should decide whether or not to tell him.”

Mrs. Darcy sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Are you unwell, madam?” asked Mrs. Reynolds. “Shall I have something brought to you?”

“No, I am perfectly fine. I tire more easily now, but it was just as you told me. One morning, I woke up feeling better and have been ever since.”

“Very good, ma’am. And may I ask if Martha attended you at all in my absence and if you were satisfied? I instructed Polly to allow her at least one day with you as part of her training.”

“Martha suits me very well, thank you,” said Mrs. Darcy smiling. “Indeed, everything went well in your absence.”

Mrs. Reynolds heard this with a mix of pride and relief, but also a little jealousy that Pemberley could run smoothly without her.

“You must also be tired from your long journey,” Mrs. Darcy went on, “We will speak in the morning. We have much to discuss. We are expecting visitors in a few days. The Bingleys will be coming, along with my two unmarried sisters and Miss Bingley.”

Mrs. Reynolds was surprised that Miss Bingley would be included in the party, but said nothing. Meanwhile, Miss Darcy’s voice swelled from the conservatory.

“Ahh, Sir Albert has worked his magic once again,” said Mrs. Darcy. “Perhaps my worries are groundless. Settle yourself in, Mrs. Reynolds. And welcome home."


End file.
